


Conspire Against the Odds

by whatwasthatharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-22 14:46:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3732811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatwasthatharry/pseuds/whatwasthatharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Louis?” he asks, eyebrows knitted together as he tries to process what just happened.</i>
</p><p>  <i>“Yeah, Z?”</i></p><p>  <i>He sounds tired, and Zayn finds himself wondering if it's because it's clear something is weighing on Harry..</i></p><p> <i>“Is everything okay with Harry?”</i></p><p>(A story in which Zayn meets Harry during their senior year of college and immediately becomes infatuated with him. But Harry disappears most nights, and it's clear he's hiding something. Zayn wants desperately to know what's going on, but no one seems to want to tell him anything.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conspire Against the Odds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [countthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/countthestars/gifts).



> so your second prompt spoke to me, and with a few twists and turns and my own version of it, i've created this. i had a lot of fun writing it, and some tears as well. along with several ripped up pages of an outline. i took the serious/angsty side, because what's zarry without a bit of angst?
> 
> a big thank you to my beta, suzey. she's amazing and awesome and cheered me on through this for weeks. and reading her comments when she first read it made me laugh and feel comfortable sharing this with everyone.
> 
> enjoy!

The tricky thing about an assumption is that it is almost always wrong. But the biggest problem lies in learning that an assumption is wrong. Making an assumption means it’s believed to be the truth, and we believe it whole-heartedly. They’re taken personally and then there is a distinct emotional response to it.

Like the time Zayn assumed his family had forgotten his birthday when he was eight. No one said anything through the day, and as Zayn grew more and more dejected, the eight-year-old boy assumed it meant no one loved him. Trisha found him in his room on the floor, the lamp broken from where he’d pushed it angrily, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

In actuality, they were just trying to throw him a huge surprise party, but Zayn assumed they hated him instead. (And maybe they shouldn’t have done that to an _eight-year-old_ who wouldn’t quite understand or be able to cope with being ignored on his special day.)

But that was Zayn: always assuming before asking a question, and almost always wrong about that assumption. So he should’ve learned by now to not do that.

Zayn should’ve figured out, at some point – that assuming leads to a poisonous emotional response that creates drama. Drama that often times means nothing; drama that doesn’t have to exist.

If Zayn had just followed the age old advice of “Before you assume something, try asking,” he might’ve found himself in different circumstances.

Zayn’s first assumption: that he has a place to live at the start of his senior year of college. 

* * *

“Don’t get mad.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows as those words filter through the phone, Liam’s voice crackly from the reception but clear all the same. There’s a hint of fear in the words, and Zayn knows that if Liam were actually there his hands would already be up like he’s surrendering. It was always the same when Liam messed up and had to tell Zayn.

“What’d you do this time, Liam?” Zayn asks with a sigh, running a hand down his face a moment later. “Is this about Soph-“

“No,” Liam interrupts quickly, “No, we’re fine. I-uh…shit.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and flops back down on the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he listens to the sounds of his sisters helping his mom downstairs. A cabinet door slams, and Zayn knows intuitively that it was Safaa.

“Just spit it out.”

“Wemaynothaveaplacetolivethisyear,” Liam rushes out, and Zayn’s barely able to process the words. There’s harsh breathing in his ear, and Zayn holds the phone out as he figures out exactly what was just said.

“We…don’t have a place to live?” he asks, even though he’s pretty sure he heard Liam correctly.

“Yeah.”

He sounds sheepish; like he’s afraid Zayn is going to blow up at him. Normally Zayn would, and he’s not quite sure why he’s so calm right now, but some part of him seems to know that getting angry will just upset Liam more. Zayn doesn’t have the desire to deal with an upset and ashamed Liam right now. Besides, the quiet tone of his voice hints to Zayn that Liam already knows he fucked up and doesn’t really need another reminder.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, waiting for Liam to explain.

“I thought things were sorted with Ben and James, the four of us sharing an apartment. I shouldn’t have let them handle it. Idiots apparently didn’t sort things right so we _didn’t_ get the place.” Liam sounds angry and Zayn smiles a little at it. That’s Liam, always angry when someone messed something important up, even if that person was himself. More than once Zayn had to listen to a passionate rant about someone that, a lot of the time, didn’t make total sense. “But they’ve found somewhere else to live with one of Ben’s friends, so now we’re out on our own to find somewhere.”

Zayn sighs; his amusement at Liam’s anger is gone and replaced with a gnawing feeling in his stomach. “We have a little over a month until senior year starts up, yeah? We’ll find a place,” he says, trying to reassure them both.

“We need to share though. The two of us can’t afford an apartment in New York City alone,” Liam reminds him, and Zayn curses at him in his head for always having to be a dad and make some logical argument. Most of the time, Zayn’s amused by it, especially when people think Liam isn’t particularly the brightest until he says something that causes them to do a double take. Zayn isn’t amused when it’s to remind him of the fickle part of being a college student going to a university in a city – no guaranteed four-year housing.

“We’ll ask around,” Zayn sighs. “We have to find somewhere, Li. It’s not like either of us live close enough to commute.”

Liam sighs, and Zayn imagines that he’s probably collapsed onto his bed like Zayn.

“Sorry, Z,” Liam mumbles, and Zayn can tell his face is pressed against the pillow.

Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose. “Not your fault,” he says after a moment.

Liam tells him they’ll figure it out and he’ll ask around before he hangs up. Zayn stares up at the ceiling again, contemplating how hard it would be to just live in the library or something for senior year, but then his mom is calling him for dinner and Safaa is yelling too. He throws his phone on the bed, cursing the school for making his life infinitely more difficult, and makes his way downstairs.

\---

It takes a week. Well, eleven days exactly, but Zayn swears he wasn’t actually keeping track. That would be ridiculous.

He’d gone through every scenario of how to complete senior year without having somewhere to live while simultaneously reaching out to everyone he knew about an apartment. Which actually wasn’t that many people, as Zayn kept his close friend group small. He looked at apartments for just him and Liam, all of which proved to be over their budget.

Part of him wondered why Liam wasn’t trying to move in with Sophia, but then there was an email sitting in his inbox and he found he didn’t much care.

_Zayn!_

_I found us a place to live next year. Do you remember Louis Tomlinson? He was my lab partner for that science class I hade to take sophomore year and apparently he’s got a spare room for rent._

_He lives with two other lads, Niall Horan and Harry Styles. There was a fourth guy who used to live with them, but he’s apparently moved out suddenly. (Louis didn’t say, but I think there was some kind of fall out.)_

_We’ll have to share a room, which was the plan anyway with James and Ben. It’s definitely big enough. Louis sent me some pictures. I’ll attach them for you, yeah?_

_Louis and Harry apparently share one too and Niall has his own. So it’ll be five of us. Rent will be cheaper with that many lads, lower than the limit we set for ourselves, so it should be good._

_The three of them have lived there for a year already and Louis says it’s a pretty good area and close to the school. The other guy should be moved out two weeks before classes’ start, so we’ll move in then._

_Also, you can’t graffiti the walls there. Sorry mate, you’ll have to use one of the studios on campus (which would’ve been true if we moved into any apartment, so don’t be put out.)_

_Louis is pretty chill. I haven’t met Harry or Niall, but Louis says they’re good guys and won’t mind us moving in. They’re seniors too, so at least we’ll all be freaking out about graduation together._

_You can save the “I love you, Liam” and “You’re amazing” responses. I know._

Zayn rolls his eyes at the last line of the e-mail, flicking through the attached pictures instead of giving Liam any response.

It’s a simple three bedroom, well two-bedroom and a closet is what it really looks like. There’s a small living room and a kitchen that looks more like a kitchenette it’s so small, but their room is a decent size and it’s better than nothing. Zayn spends a good amount of his free time in the studios in the art building or on a couch in the English Department, so he doesn’t see it being a problem.

He remembers Louis a bit, although his only real recollection being the time he walked in on Louis and Liam getting high – in their dorm room of all places. He had glared at them, annoyed that their RA could smell it and get them in trouble. But then he was sitting on the bed next to Louis and plucking the joint from his fingers, laughing easily with him and Liam for the rest of the night.

He didn’t know that Liam kept in touch with Louis after that class, but since it got them a place to live, Zayn’s glad he did.

He pulls out his phone and sends off a quick text to Liam.

_As long as I don’t have to walk in on you and Sophia fucking, we’re good. – Z_

\---

Moving in proves to be a rather simple affair. Liam has already been in town for a few days, so most of his stuff is already in the apartment, which means they just have Zayn’s stuff to get inside. He says a silent prayer that there’s an elevator in the building, because he really didn’t want to have to deal with walking up six flights of stairs every day.

Zayn’s eyes are closed as Liam drives through the city to their apartment, talking over the soft sound of the radio. They’d just gotten Zayn’s stuff from storage after Liam picked him up from the train station and now all his bags are stuffed into the back seat and the trunk.

“Niall’s a lot of fun,” Liam says, “Went out to a bar the other night with him and Louis, I think you’ll like him. And you’ve already met Louis.”

“It’ll be fine, Li,” Zayn murmurs, scratching at his stubble a bit as he turns to look at Liam. “You worry too much.”

Liam shrugs but doesn’t dispute it. “Only met Harry once. Seems to be out a good majority of the time, so he might not be there when we get in.”

Zayn just rolls his eyes and hits Liam on the back of the head. “Stop worrying,” he says again, poking Liam’s cheek until he gets a smile out of him. He’s used to this by now, having to stop Liam from giving himself pre-mature wrinkles from how much he worries. Zayn appreciates it most days, just like he appreciates almost everything else about Liam, but he does spend a lot of their friendship trying to get Liam to let loose a bit more. Moving in with Louis might be good for that, Zayn thinks.

Louis and Niall are standing on the street in a parking space when they get there, waving Liam in so he has somewhere to parallel park. It’ll be easier to move his stuff that way before finding a garage for the car. Zayn still doesn’t understand why Liam insists on having a car in the _city,_ but it makes it easier for things like moving or getting away for a weekend, so he doesn’t question it that much.

“Harry’s sleeping,” are the first words out of Louis’ mouth when they get out of the car, and Zayn raises an eyebrow. It’s one in the afternoon. He opens his mouth to say as much, but the harsh look in Louis’ eye tells him to shut up, so Zayn does. He’s not about to start an argument on their first day of living together.

“It’s the afternoon,” Liam says, and Zayn sighs. Liam was never as good at picking up on facial expressions.

Niall just laughs and shrugs. “We’ve all had late nights, yeah?”

“Just try not to be too loud,” Louis says, clapping Liam on the back with a slight smile.

Zayn wonders what exactly Harry’s “late night” was that he’d still be asleep at one. He wonders why Louis and Niall are so concerned about letting him continue to sleep. Then he remember that he doesn’t actually know Harry at all, has only _just_ met Niall, and only knows Louis from that one time they got high together. So it’s really not his place to wonder about anything.

Getting all his stuff moved in doesn’t take too long. Since Liam has been there for a bit already, the majority of the furniture is already set up in their room, so it’s just Zayn’s bags of clothes and random other things to get upstairs. And with four boys and an elevator, it only takes 30 minutes to get everything inside. It’ll take longer to unpack, and Zayn decides to avoid that particular headache by instead collapsing onto the couch next to Liam. Louis is on his other side and Niall is sprawled out over one of the two armchairs.

A door creaks open and Zayn glances behind him, his body freezing as his eyes widen.

There’s a guy standing there in nothing but a pair of black briefs, one hand idly scratching at his stomach over a butterfly tattoo there. Zayn’s eyes dart over his body and focus in on his tattoos, taking in the laurels and the swallows, the scribbles littering his left arm as well as some of the bigger designs. Zayn wonders if this guy has more tattoos then him, because Zayn has a big collection himself.

His hair is pulled up in a messy bun, and Zayn knows that means it’s long. He’s yawning, and the hand not scratching at his stomach is rubbing an eye, a clear sign that he just woke up. Zayn’s not quite sure how them banging through the apartment didn’t wake him up earlier, because even though they’d all _tried_ to be quiet, they’d failed miserably.

He looks soft, and Zayn can see the tell tale sign of bags under his eyes still. Zayn kind of wants to pull him close, and he really shouldn’t be thinking about that because he hasn’t even spoken one word to the guy. But he’s biting his bottom lip, and Zayn wants to pull it free and kiss him because he’s got a great mouth. He continues looking at the guys face, meeting bright green eyes that, oh – they’re looking right at him and Zayn flushes because he knows he’s just been caught staring at his new flatmate.

“Uh…hi,” the guy says. “Zayn, yeah?”

Zayn just nods and gives a two finger wave, blushing a little because he knows that had to look dorky. But the guy just smiles openly, dimples peeking out a bit. Zayn stares at them for a moment too long, but then Harry is moving through the apartment and to the bathroom, the door falling shut quietly behind him.

“That’s Harry,” Louis supplies from his spot next to him like Zayn hasn’t already figured that out. “I’d get used to him walking around like that, boy has no shame.”

Zayn laughs a little and shrugs; he won’t mind seeing Harry walking around like that at all. Louis is looking at him like…well, Zayn doesn’t quite know. But there’s something behind his blue eyes that seems a little hard.

As if Harry heard Louis and wanted to prove the point, he comes out of the bathroom, still in just his briefs, a few minutes later and squeezes onto the couch next to Louis, legs thrown over his lap and feet tucked under Zayn’s thigh. His hair is down now, hitting just above his shoulders, and his head rests against Louis’ shoulder as he yawns.

Zayn takes a brief moment to wonder if Louis and Harry are together and that’s why Louis looked at him like that, but then he recalls Liam mentioning Louis is dating some girl named Eleanor. Harry just appears to be a tactile person then, and a tired one too. Zayn sees his eyes falling closed, Louis’ hand in his hair and scratching at his scalp softly.

Zayn has never been open with physical touch like that; never sinuous in the way Louis and Harry appear to be. It took him until sophomore year to be that comfortable around Liam despite rooming with him for all of freshman year. Niall seems to be that way too, if the way he rests a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he gets up to get a drink says anything. Harry reaches up to grab his hand, squeezes it once before letting him go. Zayn shares a look with Liam, silently asking if he knows anything, but Liam just shrugs. 

Harry’s feet are still tucked underneath Zayn’s thigh, and he should be uncomfortable – would be if it was Louis or Niall – but there’s something about Harry that makes him feel warm instead.

He looks over to see Harry watching him through half-closed eyes, a warm smile spreading across his face. Zayn offers him a small smile back.

Louis starts a story about some party he was at the other night, and Zayn looks away from Harry to pay attention.

It only takes him a second to realize how easily he could get used to these boys.

\---

Zayn doesn’t see much of Harry for the next week, only a wave here or there in passing. He’s out most nights and Zayn spends a good portion of his days in a studio in the art building, taking time to relax and paint what he wants before the semester officially starts in a few days.

It’s the Sunday before fall semester starts when Zayn runs into Harry again, literally.

He walks into the apartment with a pencil in his mouth as he flicks through his sketchbook, one foot kicking the door closed behind him. He can hear music coming from Niall’s room, but it barely resonates with him before he walks into something hard, falling back on his ass as his sketchbook goes flying, the pencil falling out of his mouth.

He hears soft laughter from above him and looks up to Harry with one hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking and dimples deepening. There’s a sparkle in his eyes, and Zayn stares for a second too long. It’s becoming a bit of a bad habit whenever he sees Harry, unable to take his eyes off of him even when he knows he should.

“Sorry,” Harry says between his laughs, reaching a hand down.

Zayn takes the offered hand, fingers curling around Harry’s wrist as he pulls him up. It’s only once he’s standing that Zayn notices the water dripping down Harry’s chest, a short white towel wrapped around his waist his only form of clothing.

“My fault,” Zayn chokes out, shaking his head to clear any thoughts of licking the water off of him.

Harry shrugs and turns to walk away, but then he’s bending down and Zayn watches his back muscles arch and follows the water droplets dripping from his hair as they slide down his spine.

“These yours?” Harry asks, standing up as he does so.

Zayn swallows, cursing himself for getting so caught up in Harry again that he completely missed that Harry was bending over to grab his sketchbook.

His fingers twitch against his thigh as he watches Harry’s eyebrows pinch together as he flicks through the pages, pausing on certain drawings for longer than others. Zayn doesn’t like people going through his sketchbook without his permission, especially the one Harry is currently holding. It’s his portrait book, with sketches of his family and friends, one of Liam from a few months ago and random other people he’s met. He doesn’t want to think about Harry reaching the most current drawing there, one where there’s a base outline of a boy with curly hair and dimples in his cheeks.

Without thinking, Zayn snatches the sketchbook out of Harry’s hands and clutches it against his chest, breathing a little too harsh for the small action.

“I-” Harry’s face falls and he bites his lip, eyes going a little dull. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Harry backs away with a sad smile, turning to open the door to his bedroom before Zayn stops him with a hand on his back. Zayn takes a moment to think about how warm Harry feels, even in the slight chill of their apartment.

“Just ask next time, yeah?” Zayn murmurs, offering Harry a gentle smile to reassure him. He doesn’t want to see Harry sad.

Harry smiles back, tugging Zayn into his arms for a small hug. “Okay,” he murmurs against Zayn’s neck before pulling away.

Zayn watches Harry, always seems to be watching him, as he moves into his room.

“You’re really talented,” Harry says, a gentle smile spreading across his face as he looks down and closes the door.

\---

Zayn’s lying on his bed, a book for class is propped open against his thighs where they’re bent up and a notebook sitting on his right side. They’ve only been in classes for three days, and he already has a reflection paper to work on and a meeting with his advisor for his art capstone. He still hasn’t decided what he wants the theme for his portfolio to be, but he’s got all year to worry about it so he’s trying not to get anxious about it yet.

There’s a knock on the door and Zayn murmurs a soft “Come in,” not bothering to look up from his book. Something that proves to be a mistake because suddenly Louis is tugging his legs down and sitting on his stomach, his book thrown across the room.

“I’m bored,” Louis announces like it’s the most important thing in the world. In the two weeks Zayn’s been living with him, he’s learned that Louis gets bored easily and constantly seeks out one of his flat mates to be his source of entertainment. He guesses that’s why Liam decided to go out tonight, as Louis seems to have taken a liking to making his life a living hell.

“All in good fun,” Louis mutters anytime Liam gets annoyed with him.

“Where’s Niall?” Zayn asks, letting his head fall back against the wall as he stares at Louis with his arms crossed, eyes darting over towards his book a bit forlornly. “Or Harry.”

“Harry’s out,” Louis says with a wave of his hand like Zayn should already know that. And Zayn actually should’ve; he’s already gotten used to the fact that if he sees Harry, it’s normally only during the day. “And Niall has a night class, so it’s just you and me, Zaynie.”

“Don’t call me Zaynie,” Zayn grumbles, eyes narrowing.

“Not even if I have this?” Louis asks, tapping the joint tucked against his ear with a sly smile. Zayn raises an eyebrow, looking to his other ear to see another joint sitting there as well.

“Liam said Harry yelled at you last time you smoked in the apartment.”

Louis rolls his eyes and slides off the bed, tugging Zayn up as well. Zayn almost flinches away, still getting used to how tactile these boys he’s quickly beginning to call his friends are.

“Harry found a key for the roof door,” Louis says, chucking a pair of shoes at Zayn’s head that he ducks just in time to avoid getting hit.

“How does someone just _find_ a key to the roof?” Zayn asks incredulously.

A tight smile crosses Louis face, and Zayn almost asks about it, but then Louis is walking out of his room and through the apartment. “Stop questioning things, Zaynie,” he calls out.

Zayn follows Louis out of their apartment and up onto the roof, letting out a slow breath as the dull sounds of the city surround him and the wind whips his hair in front of his face. He pulls it up into a bun, scratching at one of the shaved sides before sitting next to Louis on one of the worn out chairs there, clearly brought up by the boys at some point.

Louis holds out one of the joints and a lighter for Zayn, his own already lit between his fingers as he breathes in and lets out smoke slowly.

“Thanks,” Zayn says with a nod, lighting his own and taking a long drag. He already feels relaxed just from the first hit, head falling back as he lets his eyes close.

They don’t say anything for a bit, which is a little odd for Louis but Zayn doesn’t mind sharing the silence like this.

“Why is Harry always gone at night?” Zayn asks after his fourth drag, brain a little looser so he’s not really thinking about what he says.

Louis doesn’t answer and Zayn continues on, knowing he’s rambling and should probably stop, but he can’t. He’s curious about Harry, and he feels like a drug addict aching for the next hit of information about this boy.

“Sometimes he’s not here in the morning either. I think the only time I see him is random afternoons when he’s waking up – and why does he sleep during the day? – or taking a shower.”

“Why do you care?” Louis asks.

Zayn blinks his eyes open to look over at him. His mouth is tight around the corners, fingers holding the joint a little too hard. The tension from him is practically palpable and Zayn thinks maybe he messed up somewhere.

“I don’t,” Zayn lies.

Louis raises an eyebrow and taps his fingers against his thigh. Zayn knows he doesn’t believe him.

“Harry works at night,” Louis offers with a shrug. “Occasionally he stays over at Nick’s because his apartment is sometimes closer to where he’s working.”

Louis doesn’t say anything else, and Zayn doesn’t ask. Doesn’t ask how his apartment is _sometimes_ closer or who Nick even is. Instead of asking, Zayn assumes Harry works more than one job and that this Nick is, most likely, a boyfriend. He knows Harry’s bi, heard him mention it offhandedly on a rare night that he was home.

Maybe Zayn should ask more, but he doesn’t, instead slipping back into puffs of smoke and silence with Louis.

\---

Zayn glances over at his clock, sighing as he sees _5:13am_ glaring back at him. He has no idea why he’s awake, but he can’t seem to fall asleep now that his body has decided to betray him by waking him up before ten. He can make out the shape of Liam in the dark, knows he’s on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow.

Zayn sighs and throws the comforter off his body, slipping out of their bedroom and into the living room; he figures if he’s awake for some unknown reason, he’ll work on one of his sketches. He has a meeting with his advisor in a week and would like to have something for his capstone, just to show that he’s working through various ideas for a focus for it.

After only ten minutes on the couch with his legs tucked up and his sketchbook open against his thighs, he hears someone opening the front door. He looks over to see Harry tiptoeing into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him and flicking the locks.

“Hey,” Zayn whispers, and Harry jumps a little, turning to look at him with wide eyes. Zayn thinks he looks a little bit like a baby deer. A tense one though, like he’s on high alert because someone’s about to attack.

“Hi,” Harry murmurs after taking a deep breath. He walks over to the couch and sits down on the opposite side, legs pulled up so he’s mirroring Zayn. His arms wrap around them and he rests his chin on his knees, watching Zayn through clearly tired eyes.

“Why are _you_ awake?” Harry asks, a bit of an accusation there. Even if they don’t see each other a lot, it’s not a secret to anyone that Zayn hates to be awake early, especially when early means before sunrise.

“Dunno,” Zayn shrugs, tucking his graphite pencil behind his ear. “Woke up randomly and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

Harry nods in understanding, his eyes blinking rapidly like he’s trying to stay awake. Zayn opens his mouth to tell him to go to bed.

“C’mere,” he says instead.

Harry tilts his head to the side, but he slides over towards Zayn without questioning him anyway. Zayn closes his sketchpad and puts it on the coffee table, grabbing a pillow and putting it on his lap. He doesn’t say anything else because Harry gets what he’s doing. He stretches out along the couch on his side, head resting against the pillow and face tucked against Zayn’s stomach.

After grabbing the blanket that always hangs off the back of the couch, Zayn drapes it over Harry’s body. He tugs the sleeves up on his sweatshirt, one hand then carding through Harry’s curls and massaging his scalp gently. His hair’s a bit knotty, and definitely needs a wash, but Zayn doesn’t care. It’s nice like this, Harry breathing quietly with his eyes closed as he practically purrs.

“You’re like a cat,” Zayn teases softly.

Harry only smiles as a response and pushes against Zayn’s hand harder, making them both laugh a little. He feels Harry’s body relaxing against his, the lines on his face from before smoothing out as his shoulders lose the tension Zayn had noticed earlier.

“Rough night?” Zayn asks.

Harry had looked tired when he walked through the door, his mesh black knit shirt hanging off one shoulder and hair more messy than normal. Zayn had barely even noticed the skintight black jeans with rips in both knees, too focused on the tense lines of his body. He smells slightly of sex and booze, and Zayn figures he was at a bar working – the only job Zayn can think of that would keep him out late like this – and then went to Nick’s. But if he came back to the apartment, Zayn thinks maybe things weren’t so great with him and Nick.

Harry’s face tightens a bit at the question, but a second later he’s calm again.

“Yeah,” Harry says, offering no further explanation.

“Want me to make you tea or something?” Zayn asks, smiling a little as Harry tugs the blanket over his shoulders and curls further against Zayn.

“M’good,” he mumbles, clearly on his way into sleep. “Thanks, Zayn.”

Zayn hums in response, continuing to pet Harry as he falls asleep against him. He flicks the switch on the lamp so the living room is dark again, and he closes his eyes, falling asleep only minutes after Harry.

\---

When Zayn wakes up again, he finds himself spread out on the couch with the blanket thrown over him, a post-it note sitting on his forehead. He grabs the paper, and reads it as he yawns.

_Thanks for last night (this morning?). Let’s get dinner later. My treat! :) xx – H_

Zayn yawns and looks at the clock on the TV. _11:34am._ Now that’s a perfectly reasonable time to wake up, Zayn thinks as he slides off the couch. He takes the post-it note into his room with him, sticking it next to a piece of art he has hanging, ignoring the nagging question of why he’s saving Harry’s note instead of just crumpling it up into a ball and throwing it away.

“You and Harry looked rather cuddly this morning.”

Zayn turns to see Louis leaning against the open door, arms crossed as he looks at the post-it note.

“I was up when he got in. We fell asleep on the couch,” Zayn says for an explanation, feeling like he has to defend himself to Louis anytime Harry’s brought up; feels like he has to prove himself worthy or something else equally ridiculous.

Louis opens his mouth to say something else, but then Liam’s walking into their room and flicking Louis on the back of his head as he does.

“Leave him alone,” Liam says.

Louis rolls his eyes and Liam shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

“So what _is_ going on with you and Harry?” Liam asks as he sits cross-legged on his bed, eyebrows raised as he waits for Zayn to answer.

Zayn sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. He looks down, hair falling in front of his eyes as he shrugs.

“He was just tired, Li.”

Liam’s quiet for a minute. “You like him.”

Zayn looks up, eyes narrowed. He opens his mouth to refute his remark, but Liam cuts him off.

“You do, Zayn. Why else would you save a fucking _post-it note_ from him?”

Zayn flushes, knows it’s stupid but he still can’t bring himself to take it off the wall and throw it out.

“Where is he anyway?” Zayn asks, giving up on the pretense that he doesn’t have a crush on Harry. Liam’s known him for over three years. He’s seen him through the mess of a relationship he had sophomore year as well as random crushes before and after that. And if Louis seemed to know what Zayn was thinking, there was no way Liam wouldn’t know. Liam always says he’s an open book, even if Zayn tries not to be.

“The roof with Niall,” Liam says with a shrug. “Gonna go confess how you feel before your date tonight?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “It’s not a date, Liam,” he says, “And I have no plans to tell Harry anything.”

Liam opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, probably push Zayn to be honest with Harry, but Zayn doesn’t want to hear it.

“How’s Sophia?” he asks before he can speak, and Liam’s eyes light up.

Zayn spends the next half-hour listening to Liam gush about how lovely Sophia is, their conversation about Harry all but forgotten. He spends the rest of the day working on a paper, even though it’s Sunday and he’d rather not be doing any work on a day free from classes. Liam stays in the room with him, working on his own school stuff and throwing out random comments. Zayn likes days like this, when he can decompress in his room and joke with Liam like they used to do freshman year.

Harry comes barging in a little after six. He doesn’t bother to knock, simply walks in and collapses on Zayn’s bed, hands tucked behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

Liam laughs a little, and Zayn glares at him, knowing the laugh was directed at him because of the stunned look on his face.

“Yeah, Haz. Let’s go.”

Zayn grabs one of his leather jackets and sticks his tongue out at Liam when he smirks at him. He turns to Harry, pausing when he notices him standing and staring at the post-it still stuck on the wall. There’s a soft smile on his face, and Zayn thinks that it’s worth it to have Liam and Louis teasing him as long as Harry always looks like that.

“Ready?” Zayn asks, startling Harry.

Harry recovers quickly, the smile still on his face as he nods. He grabs Zayn’s wrist and pulls him out of the room, shouting a goodbye to Liam as he does. Zayn could tell Harry that he’s perfectly capable of getting out of their apartment and building without being guided, but he keeps quiet and instead enjoys the warmth of Harry’s skin against his own.

Harry lets his hand go once they’re out on the street, quickly pulling his hair up into a bun against the wind.

“So, I know I said my treat, but I don’t actually have a lot of money,” he starts sheepishly, cheeks a little bit red. “I hope cheap Chinese food is good?”

Harry looks so unsure, like Zayn would actually ever say no to anything he proposed.

“Anything’s better than the dining hall,” Zayn teases.

Harry grins at him and wraps his arm around Zayn’s to lead him to the restaurant. It’s only a few blocks away, but Zayn spends the entire time trying to regulate his breathing with Harry pressed that close. He also tries to focus on the story Harry is telling him about the time Louis got kicked out of a restaurant, but the words aren’t really registering.

 _This isn’t a date,_ he reminds himself when they get to the restaurant and Harry disentangles himself. _Harry has a boyfriend._

Harry doesn’t even look at the menu in the few minutes they sit there until a waiter comes, just turns to him with a smile and asks for water and vegetable fried rice.

“What’s your major?” Harry asks after Zayn orders practically the same thing and their waiter leaves. Zayn doesn’t know how Harry manages to look so excited about such a simple question.

“Art, which you probably could’ve guessed from my sketches,” Zayn says. “English too.”

Harry nods, smiling in thanks at the waiter when he brings their waters over. He blows the straw wrapper at Zayn, laughing when it hits him in the face.

“I’m a music major,” Harry says easily. “Niall and I both are, actually.”

“Instrument?” Zayn asks.

“My voice,” Harry smiles, rubbing his throat a little. “Niall’s teaching me guitar though. And I like to write too? That’s not really an instrument, though.”

“Trying to be a famous singer/songwriter?” Zayn teases, a slight hint of seriousness there. He tries to imagine it, famous Harry with the bright green eyes and the dimples. The girls would definitely fall in love with him in a heartbeat, some of the guys as well.

“Probably not,” Harry shrugs, “Maybe I’ll be lucky and have people sing my songs one day, but I think I’d rather teach or something.”

Zayn nods, not that surprised by the admission. Harry would be good with kids. “Me too,” he says.

Harry tilts his head to the side.

“Teaching, I mean. Kind of want to teach English. Or art. That’d be sick.”

Harry smiles a little and reaches across to grab Zayn’s hand that’s resting on the table, squeezing softly. “You like kids?” he asks, taking his hand back and Zayn chooses not to comment on it.

“Love them,” Zayn says with a smile. “I’ve got a goddaughter, actually.”

Zayn takes his phone out and pulls up a few pictures of Brooklyn and him, showing them to Harry. Predictably, Harry coos at the sight of the little girl. He pauses at the picture of Zayn cuddling her, finger hovering over it.

“You look so happy,” he says, and it’s so quiet Zayn doesn’t know if he was supposed to here it.

“Hard not to be around her.”

Harry simply nods and hands Zayn his phone back. Their food comes a few minutes later, but Zayn barely even has time to take a bite before Harry’s talking again. Zayn finds himself wondering if Harry has a fear of silence or something.

“Your sketches…” Harry starts, pausing like he’s unsure if Zayn wants him to talk about this. Zayn just nods his head to tell him that he can say whatever he wants to.

“Art majors have a capstone, yeah?” Harry asks, and Zayn raises an eyebrow at that; not many people know the curriculum for an art major. “Niall’s got a friend who’s an art major,” he explains.

“Yeah, we do,” Zayn says. “Haven’t decided what to do for mine yet.”

“Well, what do you like to draw?” Harry asks, and there’s a bit of excitement behind his voice like he wants to dive into Zayn’s mind and find out what makes him tick. Zayn doesn’t know if that’s true or if Harry just likes getting to know everything he can about people in general.

“People, I guess,” Zayn answers, ignoring the part of him that’s whispering _green eyes, dimples, curly hair._ “I like graphic novel type stuff too, though. Comics and all that.”

Harry’s silent for a moment, looks a little lost in thought. Zayn doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to eat the food that they’d come here for.

“Why don’t you do like…comic portrayals of people you know?” Harry asks, the words coming out slow like he’s unsure whether it’s a good idea or not.

“You mean draw them in the style of a comic book character,” Zayn clarifies, and Harry nods quickly.

“Combine both things, yeah?”

Zayn shrugs, filing the idea away. It’s not bad actually, and he’d probably have more fun doing that then trying to draw a bowl of fruit or something equally nauseating from how boring it is. He can already picture his drawing of Harry, knows which features he’d exaggerate. Liam too. And Brooklyn.

“Sorry,” Harry says, interrupting his thoughts.

“Sorry?”

Harry shrugs and twirls the straw in his glass. “Didn’t mean to overstep or give you a rubbish idea or anything.”

Zayn laughs a little. “Not rubbish, Haz. I like it.”

Harry smiles wide then, dimples deeper then Zayn thinks he’s ever seen them. He’d spend the rest of the night just staring at that smile if he could.

The rest of dinner is spent like that, easy conversation between them about school and other random things. Zayn learns that Harry sings at open mic nights when he finds the time, that he has a sister who’s off in another country and his mom just got remarried a little over a year ago. He finds out Harry loves bad puns and jokes when he tries out a particularly bad knock knock joke on a little girl who comes into the restaurant with her mom. He finds that Harry’s not actually afraid of silence (he may have let that question slip out without thinking), but he does love talking. Zayn doesn’t ask if he has a boyfriend though, doesn’t want the confirmation that Nick exists by hearing Harry gush about him.

“Do you mind covering the tip?” Harry asks when the bill comes, voice soft. Zayn watches him, notes the slight blush on his cheek and the way he’s biting his bottom lip. “Work was kind of slow this week.”

Zayn just shrugs and throws a few bills on the table. “It’s fine, Haz. I’m lucky if I can afford to eat some weeks.”

It’s not entirely true. Zayn’s job at the library and tutoring both pay a decent amount, and his parents send him money when he really needs it. There were weeks last year though when he avoided going out so he could make the rent. Harry still looks a little embarrassed, but Zayn doesn’t comment on it, knows exactly what that’s like.

“Where do you work?” he asks instead.

Something flicks across Harry’s face. It’s gone before Zayn can decipher whether it was sad or angry or some combination of the two or nothing at all.

“Service industry,” Harry says with a shrug, not offering more than that.

Zayn takes it as confirmation that he works at a bar (or a restaurant) with the late hours he’s always out, and the slow week at work probably means tips were light.

“You like it?” he wonders, figuring Harry has to with the way he’s always smiling and how he doesn’t seem to mind having a fucked up sleep schedule.

Harry’s smile is tight when he answers, but Zayn doesn’t think much of it. “Pays the rent, right?” He laughs, but there’s not much joy behind it.

Zayn doesn’t say anything else as they leave the restaurant, Harry a few steps ahead of him.

“Can I hear you sing sometime?” Zayn asks when they’ve walked a block. He’s not usually uncomfortable with the silence, but Harry is still tense and while Zayn doesn’t quite understand why, he knows he wants it to stop.

“You want to?”

Zayn reaches down to squeeze Harry’s hand, pulling away after a second. “Of course.”

“I’ll drag you to the next open mic I go to then,” he says, the smile back on his face. Zayn hums happily, listening to Harry as he starts to babble about his favorite artists to cover.

\---

A week later, Zayn walks into the apartment to the muffled sounds of Harry and Louis’ loud voices. And Zayn knows he shouldn’t, can practically feel the anger from each of them through the closed door, but he pauses where he is. Liam’s out with Sophia and Niall’s door is open and the living room is empty, meaning he’s not there. Louis and Harry don’t even know Zayn’s there, probably didn’t expect him to be either. He’s supposed to be in class, but the teacher cancelled last minute.

“Harry, you need to listen,” he hears Louis shout, can imagine the way he’d throw his hands up in frustration.

Zayn knows he should leave, go to his room and block out their voices or go to the roof (Louis had given him a copy of the key a few days ago) until he thinks their argument is done. But he stays rooted to the spot, listening.

“Louis, I’m not having this discussion _again_.”

Harry sounds tired, and Zayn frowns at the thought.

“I can cover your rent, Haz. You can pay me back later.”

“Maybe this month and the next, yeah. But the entire year? I don’t think so.”

“So get a different fucking job.”

“This one pays well!”

“But you hate it. And it didn’t go so well this month, now did it?”

Zayn flinches as the sound of skin meeting skin filters out.

“I’m going to let that go, Harry. Because I know that wasn’t aimed at me.”

Zayn frowns, confusion etched into the lines of his face.

“I’m tired, Lou.”

Harry sounds worn out now, like all his fight is gone, and Zayn wants to barge into the room and wrap him up and force him to sleep. But he doesn’t, even though he’s now standing right outside their door, hand poised over the doorknob.

“I know,” he hears Louis say. “C’mon, let’s watch _Love, Actually,_ okay?”

Zayn thinks he hears Harry sniffle like he’s crying, but then it’s quiet. Once he hears the opening music for the movie, Zayn backs away and retreats into his own room. He’s got a million questions, but he knows Louis won’t tell him anything. And Harry – even though they talk constantly when they’re around one another since their dinner and Harry sends him stupid texts throughout the day – is still a bit of a closed book to him.

\---

Harry seems to be gone more over the next two weeks. Zayn’s phone beeps all day with messages from him, sometimes about school or a song, sometimes asking about his art, sometimes about nothing at all, sometimes about the fucking weather. Harry seems to catalogue every thought through text message, but Zayn doesn’t mind.

He only physically sees Harry twice in those two weeks.

The first time, Harry’s walking to the bathroom with a towel thrown over his shoulder as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. Zayn’s lying on the couch, a book bent open and his eyes immediately find Harry when he hears him. Harry gives him a half-hearted smile and Zayn waves back with two fingers. He sees a slight bruise on Harry’s back, but Harry closes the bathroom door before he can ask. Harry’s clumsy – Zayn’s caught him more then once since he moved in tripping over nothing – so he might’ve fallen, but Zayn can’t help but think that it looked like a handprint – like someone had held onto him too hard. Zayn doesn’t like it, but he knows that rough sex happens and he doesn’t need the awkward conversation by asking Harry about it.

The second time he sees Harry, he walks into the apartment to Louis and Harry standing in the kitchen, both their shoulders tense and some kind of glaring match happening between them. Harry’s wrist is in Louis’ hand, lavender sleeve of his knit sweater pushed up. Louis’ fingers from his other hand are lightly tracing over something on his wrist, and Zayn thinks it’s a new tattoo but as he steps closer, he notices the dark skin and the way it’s yellowed at the edges like it’s been there for a few days. He sucks in a breath and the noise is what breaks Harry and Louis from their staring match. Harry rips his arm away from Louis and tugs his sleeve down, turning to Zayn with a smile that’s clearly forced.

“Hey, Zayn,” Harry says, grabbing a cup of tea Zayn hadn’t noticed before off the counter. He presses a kiss to Zayn’s cheek before disappearing from the kitchen. A door slams and Zayn sees Louis flinch a little.

Louis rubs a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose before grabbing his own cup of tea. He makes to leave the kitchen, but Zayn stops him.

“Louis?” he asks, eyebrows knitted together as he tries to process what just happened.

“Yeah, Z?”

He sounds tired, and Zayn finds himself wondering, not for the first time, what is going on with Harry, because it’s clear there’s _something._

“Is everything okay with Harry?” he asks, deciding to be straightforward about it.

Louis sighs, glances down at his mug, before looking back at Zayn with a shrug. He doesn’t even try to play it off as nothing like he usually would and somehow that worries Zayn even more.

“Niall and I are dealing with it. Don’t worry,” Louis says, but it barely reassures Zayn.

“He’s not like…” Zayn trails off, biting his lip as he tries to figure out how to ask what he wants to. “It’s not an abusive boyfriend or something, yeah? Because I saw this bruise on his back the other day…”

Zayn stops talking when he sees the way Louis’ eyes narrow and he turns his head to glance back at his closed bedroom door. “He didn’t tell me about that,” Louis mutters. He shakes his head and turns back to Zayn, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not an abusive boyfriend, he’s fine. Just a klutz, you know Harry.”

Zayn doesn’t really believe him, but Louis walks away before he can ask anything else.

\---

Niall finds him a few hours later on the roof smoking a cigarette. He’s got a guitar in one hand and a notebook in the other when he collapses into the chair next to Zayn and kicks his feet up on the shitty plastic table they’d brought up there the other week. Zayn blows out a puff of smoke as Niall starts to strum aimlessly, random chords filling the silence.

“Louis says you’re worried about Harry,” he says after a minute, not pausing as he moves into a song Zayn only recognizes because he’s heard Harry humming it around the apartment before.

“Should I not be?” Zayn counters, flicking some ash off the end before taking another drag.

Niall sighs, and Zayn takes a moment to think that he sounds just as tired as Louis and Harry had looked earlier.

“Louis said Harry’s just a klutz,” Zayn says.

Niall laughs a little, but it still sounds a little cold. “He _is_ a klutz. I swear he’s like a baby deer still learning how to walk.”

Zayn smiles a little at the thought. Liam had called Harry Bambi during their second week of living together when he tripped trying to sit on the couch. It was one of the rare nights when he didn’t go out and the five of them had decided to sit around watching movies instead of venturing somewhere in the harsh rain. Harry had just smiled at the nickname, shrugging like he knew it was completely true.

“Seems a bit more serious than that.”

“Why do you care so much?”

Zayn shrugs; he doesn’t really have an answer for that. Or at least, he doesn’t have an answer he’s willing to admit to anyone other than Liam just yet.

\---

When Zayn comes back from working at the art studio on Friday night, he finds Harry lying on his stomach on the couch. His head is turned towards the TV and he’s flicking through the channels, only pausing for a few seconds on one before moving to the next. The apartment’s quiet besides the voices flitting from the TV. Zayn shuffles closer and leans over the back of the couch.

“Nothing interesting on, Styles?” he asks, chuckling a little when Harry drops the remote.

“You’re too fucking quiet,” he grumbles. “I never hear you come in.”

Harry picks up the remote and flicks the TV off. Zayn watches as he sits up, crossing his legs and looking at Zayn. A small giggle falls from his lips, and Zayn doesn’t know what he’s laughing at but he knows he never wants him to stop.

“You’ve got paint on your nose. And your eyebrow. And your cheek,” Harry says, poking at each spot of paint and laughing more. “Made a right mess of yourself.”

Zayn shrugs, crossing his eyes to look at his nose, which only serves to make Harry laugh harder. He likes this, coming home from the studio to find Harry resting on the couch and then laughing at him. It’d be terribly easy to get used to, and Zayn’s a bit terrified of it all.

“It’s all over your clothes too,” Harry says, picking at his Pink Floyd t-shirt, drops of white and red and some green splattered over it. “You look like a five year old who just finger painted for the first time.”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I paint better when I don’t care if I ruin my clothes.”

Harry nods, biting his lip as he looks up at Zayn with a smile. His dimples are peaking out from his cheeks and Zayn pokes one of them playfully, smiling when it makes Harry laugh again. It’s a habit he’s fallen into, poking Harry’s dimples whenever he sees them; Harry never seems to mind, and the first time he did it, he’s pretty sure he made him blush.

“What are you doing home?” Zayn asks, hands pressed onto the back of the couch as he leans forward more, head tilted to the side. Harry’s home randomly at times, but Zayn doesn’t think he’s ever seen him at the apartment on a Friday night, especially if the others aren’t around.

“Too tired to work tonight,” Harry says with a shrug, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands. “Louis dragged Liam and Niall out to this new bar he heard of.”

Zayn nods, remembering the text he’d gotten an hour earlier asking if he wanted to meet them. Zayn had actually come home to change and go out with them, but if Harry’s staying in, Zayn won’t mind a quiet night either. He should probably think about the fact that his plans are centered around Harry, but he wants to spend time with him more than he wants to get drunk with the other guys.

“Movie?” Zayn asks. “After I get this paint off me, that is.”

“Nothing scary,” Harry says through narrowed eyes and Zayn laughs softly.

“We’ll watch one of your rom-coms, don’t worry Hazza,” Zayn says, tucking one of Harry’s loose curls back behind his ear. It’s so easy like this with Harry, to reach out and touch him without worrying. There’s something about Harry that makes Zayn completely comfortable being tactile with him.

Zayn tries not to take too long, showering in under ten minutes and throwing on a pair of sweatpants and an old black t-shirt. He towel dries his hair before pulling it up into a bun, walking back out to the living room to see Harry perched on the couch with his legs up, a bowl of fruit resting on his knees as he watches a random reality show.

“Only you would choose fruit as a snack, Haz,” Zayn murmurs, sitting down next to him and popping a grape into his mouth.

Harry looks at him and shrugs, glancing at his fruit before looking at Zayn with a sly smile.

“No,” Zayn says as he holds up a hand; he knows that look.

“Zayn…” Harry pleads.

“No.”

“But Zaaayn,” Harry draws out his name, a pout on his lips and eyes wide. Zayn curses internally; Harry could get him to say yes to anything with that look.

“Fine, but it better be funny,” he warns.

Harry just smiles and holds up a piece of fruit, giggling already and he hasn’t even gotten the joke out.

“What did the girl melon say to the boy melon when he proposed to her?”

Zayn just stares at him, waiting for the punch line that he knows won’t actually be funny.

“We’re too young, we cantaloupe!”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but the effect is lost by the slight upwards quirk of his lips. Harry’s giggling a little, eyes bright and happy as he eats the piece of fruit.

“See, you thought it was funny,” Harry says once he’s done chewing, poking at the corner of Zayn’s mouth with a self-satisfied look on his face. He’s preening a little too, and Zayn doesn’t know how he can get so much joy from telling bad jokes. He also doesn’t have the heart to tell him that his joke was actually really bad and the reason he’s smiling is because Harry is just… _Harry._

“It wasn’t as bad as some of the knock-knock ones you text me when I’m in class,” Zayn concedes.

Harry tugs at Zayn’s bun playfully before putting the bowl down on the coffee table and grabbing the remote instead, switching the DVD player on. Zayn’s eyes widen a little when he sees THOR pop up on the screen a few seconds later.

“You want to watch a superhero movie?” He asks, disbelief coloring his voice.

Harry’s cheeks look a little red when Zayn turns to him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but Zayn knows Harry’s not a big fan of them. He likes Zayn’s ‘Zap!’ tattoo, traced it with his fingers absentmindedly last time they all watched a movie together, but Harry prefers his romances and comedies over action and adventure.

“Figured I’d see why you liked them so much,” Harry mumbles. “Plus, Chris Hemsworth is pretty hot.”

Zayn laughs easily, reaching over to tug gently at a few of Harry’s curls. It’s becoming an obsession, really. He’s always tucking a curl behind Harry’s ear or tugging at one. Harry tried to get him to braid it one morning when they were sitting together before going to classes, but Zayn told him that even though he had three sisters, he had no idea how to braid hair. Harry had just pouted at him a little, and for some reason that Zayn still refuses to acknowledge, he’d ended up watching a YouTube tutorial on braiding hair later that day.

“You’re something else, Harry Styles,” Zayn whispers, voice achingly fond as he looks at this boy, his fingers still curled around the lock of hair.

Harry’s cheeks go bright red, and Zayn can’t deny that he’s blushing. He likes it, likes that _he_ was the one who got Harry to blush. And he likes that Harry’s watching a superhero movie for him. Although all the other boys like them as well, but Zayn’s choosing to believe Harry’s doing this solely for him. Even though that thought’s a little dangerous. Harry has a boyfriend. Zayn reminds himself of that practically everyday, especially when it feels like Harry’s flirting with him. _That’s just Harry_ , he always tells himself.

“Turn off the light?” Harry says, voice quiet and his eyes still locked on Zayn’s.

Zayn swallows and nods, knows it’s just Harry wanting to watch a movie in the dark (because how else do you watch a movie?) and nothing more than that. Zayn reaches behind him and flicks the lamp off as Harry starts the movie. Ten minutes in and he’s not surprised to feel Harry lifting his arm up and sliding into his side, legs kicked over his thighs as he rests against him. Zayn doesn’t think it’s possible for Harry to sit on a couch with someone for more than twenty minutes and _not_ cuddle with them.

His rests one hand on Harry’s calf, the other reaching up to play with his curls, eyes still focused on the screen. He feels Harry let out a sigh against him, and when he looks down a few minutes later, Harry’s eyes are closed and his mouth is slightly open as he lets out little puffs of air. A gentle smile spreads across Zayn’s lips and he holds Harry a little tighter as he sleeps.

By the time the credits roll, they’re both spread out on the couch, Zayn behind Harry with Harry’s back against his chest, and fast asleep.

Louis, Liam, and Niall come barging into the apartment about an hour later, jerking them both awake. Zayn thinks he feels Harry press back against him before he moves to get up and help Louis (who is drunker than Zayn has seen him before), but he can’t be sure. What he can be sure of is the soft kiss Harry presses to his cheek and the slight “this was fun” he whispers when he untangles their bodies.

When Zayn goes to his room a little while later, having turned off the TV and cleaned up the dishes left on the coffee table, Liam is already fast asleep. Zayn finds that it’s a little harder to fall asleep now without the warmth of Harry’s body against him.

\---

Liam’s sitting on the edge of his bed when Zayn wakes up, back pressed up against the wall and his legs sprawled out, feet dangling off the side. He’s got a notebook on his lap, flicking through notes for class or something, and Zayn kicks him lightly with his foot.

“You have a perfectly good bed over there,” he mumbles, pulling the comforter up over his face. It’s pulled back down not even a second later, and Zayn opens his eyes again to see Liam watching him.

“Want to talk to you,” he says.

Zayn yawns and sits up against his pillows, waving a hand at Liam to proceed as he rubs the sleep from his eyes with the other hand. Liam doesn’t say anything though, and Zayn lets out a sigh; it’s too early for this, even if it is 10:30 already.

“Just spit it out, Li,” he mumbles.

“What’s going on with you and Harry?”

Zayn shrugs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Liam pinches one of Zayn’s legs under the blanket and Zayn hisses, kicking at Liam’s thigh in retaliation.

“We may’ve been drunk last night, but we saw you and him sleeping on the couch. Your bodies were practically glued together.”

Zayn sighs and plays with the scruff of his beard. Liam’s watching him with careful eyes, clearly waiting for some answer, but he’s not quite sure what to say. Because he knows that Liam knows nothing really happened, Zayn would’ve told him already, but Liam also knows _Zayn._ He knows Zayn doesn’t just cuddle with anyone on the couch. Zayn also walked in on Liam flicking through his sketchbook the other day, which isn’t uncommon, but there’s more than one sketch of Harry in there now.

“He was just tired,” Zayn murmurs, hoping Liam will drop it.

He doesn’t. “Are you going to tell him?”

Zayn picks at a loose thread on the comforter. “Tell him what?” he asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Oh, I don’t know, that you’re falling in love with him?” Liam asks, a bit exasperated as he throws a sweatshirt that’s at the end of the bed at Zayn.

Zayn finds that he prefers when Liam _isn’t_ being perceptive, because it’s a lot less questions and a lot less stress.

“He’s got a boyfriend,” is all Zayn offers, because he knows he can’t deny it. Liam knows him too well, and he thinks Louis may know too. Maybe even Niall.

“Never heard him mention one,” Liam points out.

“Can we just drop this?” Zayn asks, throwing the comforter off his body and getting out of bed. His fingers are fidgeting against his thigh, and he pulls the sweatshirt Liam threw at him over his head. He grabs the pack of cigarettes and lighter off his side table, finding the key for the roof as well.

“I just want you to be happy, Z,” Liam says as Zayn goes to leave the room. “Been a while since I’ve seen you in a proper relationship.”

“I’m fine, babe. Don’t worry about me,” Zayn reassures, offering Liam a slight smile without any truth behind it as he disappears out of the apartment to go have a smoke.

\---

_Bring back dinner with you. Kitchen’s empty._

Zayn rolls his eyes as he reads Liam’s text message. He pulls his jacket tighter against him when he steps out of Ben’s apartment building into the cool late October air, pocketing his phone and trying to decide whether to take the subway or a cab home. He’s pretty far uptown and isn’t particularly in the mood to deal with the mess of people on the subway on a Friday night, but if he has to get dinner, he really doesn’t have much extra to spend on a cab. And that also means dealing with traffic, so really no option seems that wonderful to him.

While Zayn is debating the riveting idea of transportation in the city, he hears someone yelling “bye!” from down the street, and then a body slams into him. He manages to keep from falling over, but when he looks next to him it’s to see Harry flat on his ass on the sidewalk, eyes wide as he looks up to see Zayn standing over him.

“Still a klutz then, huh?” Zayn teases, reaching a hand down to help Harry up. He takes the hand with a tight smile.

“Sorry, I was walking backwards and didn’t see you,” Harry mumbles, brushing some of the dirt off his pants.

Zayn takes a moment to let his eyes wander, taking in the practically sheer black button-up he has on, only three buttons done up. His butterfly tattoo is peeking out and Zayn can see his swallows clearly; even the laurels on his hips are a bit visible under the streetlights. There’s a pair of black skinny jeans trapping his legs, and Zayn still doesn’t understand how Harry squeezes into them without cutting off his circulation. His hair is down and in front of his face, but Harry quickly brushes it back like usual.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asks, and he looks a bit uncomfortable, shoulders tense and crinkled lines on his forehead making an appearance.

“Ben lives here,” Zayn says, pointing towards the building behind him. “Another art major; we go over each other’s work and give advice sometimes.”

There’s a slight look of disgust on Harry’s face as he glances at the building behind Zayn, and he takes a step back. Zayn’s about to ask what Harry’s thinking, but he quickly replaces the look with a smile.

“Sounds like fun,” he says, but each word sounds forced, and Zayn doesn’t like this. Harry’s closed off, body growing tenser with each second and eyes darting around like he’s scared of…something.

“Going to a club?” Zayn asks to try to shift the attention elsewhere, nodding his head at Harry’s outfit.

Some of the tension leaves Harry’s body and he lets out a sigh of clear relief. “A club…yeah, definitely,” Harry agrees, but his voice is still missing it’s usual lilt.

Zayn opens his mouth to say something else, anything really to get Harry to start being _Harry._ He’ll tell him a dumbass knock-knock joke if he has to. But then someone’s calling Harry’s name from the stoop of an apartment building about half a block away.

“Be right there, Nick,” Harry yells back, turning to Zayn with something like an apology on his face. “See you tomorrow, Zayn,” he says, smiling a little before darting off back where he came from.

Zayn watches Harry go. He sees a guy – _Nick,_ his brain supplies for him – hand him a coat, and Harry’s biting his lip and nodding at something Nick says. It’s a coat Zayn’s seen before; saw it this morning before Harry left, meaning he’d left it in Nick’s apartment earlier. The burning sensation of jealousy in the pit of his stomach is something Zayn tries not to concentrate on, but it proves difficult when he sees Nick pull Harry into a hug. He’s saying something serious – Zayn can tell from the tight look on his face and the way Harry is nodding his head slowly, as though Nick is imparting some great wisdom unto him. Harry whispers something back, kisses Nick on the cheek and walks away, disappearing around the corner. Nick runs a hand through his hair, looks a bit worried from what Zayn can tell, and then he disappears as well back into his apartment building.

Zayn makes it back to the apartment forty-five minutes later, his cash gone from the cab ride and a quick stop at a 7/11 to get some sandwiches for him and Liam. Louis and Niall are sitting on the couch, and from the way Louis’ hands are flying, he knows they’re debating something but Zayn doesn’t pay much attention to the conversation. Last time he listened to one of their debates it was about Cool Ranch Doritos versus regular Doritos.

“Nick is real,” Zayn says as he walks into his and Liam’s room, the door falling shut behind him. He throws one of the sandwiches at Liam, sitting cross-legged on his own bed.

“Sorry, who’s Nick?” Liam asks around a bite of his food, head tilted as he looks at Zayn.

“Harry’s _boyfriend,_ ” Zayn mutters, the words coming out harsher then he meant. He knows it’s stupid to be jealous, but now that he’s actually seen Nick, it’s harder for him to forget that Harry is taken. Most days, he likes to pretend there’s no significant other in Harry’s life, but now he has a face to match the floating name, and he doesn’t like it at all.

“You’re really pining for him,” Liam says, voice soft and eyes watching Zayn like he’s a puppy trying to comfort its human.

Zayn knows that look; it’s the look Liam gets every time he goes into “Daddy mode” and starts trying to take care of everyone around him. It’s his protective mode, but right now Zayn doesn’t care to have it focused on him.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” Zayn says, voice tight and clipped to let Liam know to just drop it.

Liam frowns. “You’re the one who brought it up.”

“And now I’m burying it again,” Zayn retorts, shooting a glare at Liam to let him know he’s serious and the topic is not up for debate.

“Fine,” Liam concedes, chucking a pillow at Zayn’s head. “Just answer one question and I’ll drop it for now.”

Zayn waves his hand to tell Liam to continue, knowing he’ll ask even if Zayn doesn’t give him the go ahead.

“Are you sure this Nick guy is his boyfriend? I’ve never heard him mentioned before.”

Zayn looks at Liam with narrowed eyes, throwing the pillow back at him. “I’m sure,” Zayn says, “He left his coat in his apartment and kissed his cheek.”

Liam laughs a little. “Harry kisses _everyone’s_ cheek,” he reminds him, but Zayn’s not really listening.

“Just drop it, Li.”

Zayn can tell Liam doesn’t want to; his lips are pursed like he’s biting back a question, but luckily he doesn’t ask it. Zayn would probably throw something a little harder then a pillow at his head if he did.

He doesn’t want to think about Harry or Nick or the jealousy that’s still coursing through him after seeing the smallest interaction between the two. Liam’s right, nothing about it screamed boyfriends, but why else would Harry constantly end up at his apartment after work if they weren’t dating. And the way Nick was looking at him when he left, like he was deeply worried, is a bit too much for Zayn. He doesn’t know why Nick was worried, probably just about Harry walking around the city alone or something, but no one looks that concerned for just a friend.

Zayn wonders why Harry’s never actually mentioned him. They’ve talked about past relationships before; Zayn told him about the guy from sophomore year who turned out to be a dick and Harry told him about his first kiss when he was twelve and the boy who made him realize he was bi when he was eighteen and a freshman in college. It’s weird that Harry never told Zayn about Nick, but Zayn’s glad for it as well. He doesn’t know how well he’d be able to cope with hearing Harry gush about someone else.

Liam doesn’t say anything else about Harry for the rest of the night, and Zayn tries to push all thoughts of him from his mind, even goes into the living room with Louis and Niall to listen to their dumb conversations to distract himself.

\---

The first thing Zayn hears when he enters the apartment after his Tuesday classes is Harry’s voice. His bedroom door is open, so it’s definitely _not_ eavesdropping when Zayn goes into the kitchen to grab a snack and his conversation filters through.

“Everything’s fine, mom,” Zayn hears Harry say, voice sounding a little exasperated. And Zayn knows what that’s like, having to reassure his parents that he’s fine. He has similar conversations with his own mom every time he calls home.

“Louis helped me with the rent this month, and I picked up some extra shifts at the bar. I promise, money is tight but I’m affording everything fine.”

“My grades are good. I know I need to keep them up for the scholarship.”

Zayn remembers Harry mentioning that in passing one day when they were talking about music, how he’d gotten a partial tuition scholarship from the conservatory but he had to maintain a B average or he’ll lose it.

Harry stays on the phone for ten more minutes, reassuring his mom and then asking after his sister. Gemma, Zayn remembers. Harry had gone on about her for ages the last time they talked about family, and Zayn understood. He’d spend all day talking about his sisters if he could.

Without thinking about it, Zayn pours a cup of tea for Harry along with his own, knocking on his open bedroom door when he knows Harry’s off the phone.

Harry glances at him from where he’s perched on the bed, various books open in front of him and sheet music open on his lap. He smiles a little as Zayn walks into the room, taking the offered drink and blowing on it before taking a sip.

“Thanks, Zayn,” he murmurs.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, just shrugs like it wasn’t a big deal and disappears into his own room.

\---

Zayn’s lying on his floor, sketches spread out in front of him and music playing softly in the background. It’s nearing two in the morning, but he’s too focused to feel tired. This drawing is due in a few days and he keeps starting over. Right now he’s determined to get it right. He’s glad Liam’s staying over at Sophia’s, otherwise he’d have to hear him whining at Zayn that he can’t sleep with a light on and why doesn’t he just work on his drawing in the morning?

There’s a soft knock on his door, and Zayn crinkles his eyebrow.

“Come in,” he calls out softly.

The door creaks open and then there’s Harry standing there, hand grasped tight on the doorknob. He’s got sweatpants on and a t-shirt that’s inside out, hair thrown up in a messy bun. It looks like he changed quickly when he got home and didn’t pay attention to what he was doing. Zayn notices his eyes look a little red, like maybe he was crying, but he can’t be sure.

“Hi,” Harry whispers, looking a little lost and biting his lip like he’s unsure if Zayn wants him there.

Zayn sits up. “Hey, Haz. Everything okay?”

“I just…” Harry lets out a harsh breath, hands playing with the hem of his shirt. Zayn’s never seen Harry like this; he looks lost and unsure and like a child. It’s wrong.

“Kind of don’t want to be alone tonight. And Eleanor is here, so Louis is preoccupied and…” he trails off. He leans against the door frame like it’s too much to stay standing, eyes fluttering a little and Zayn worries that he’s going to fall asleep standing up.

He _almost_ asks about Nick, or even Niall, but he bites back those questions. Harry came to him, even if he might’ve wanted Louis originally; which is something he can’t really fault him for. Louis told him a little while ago that he’s known Harry since middle school.

“C’mon,” Zayn says, standing up and walking the few feet to Harry. He wraps his hand around his wrist and tugs him into the room; the door falls closed behind them and he leads Harry over to his bed.

“You can sleep here anytime, babe,” Zayn reassures, squeezing Harry’s wrist and tugging at his bun playfully. It’s normally something Harry does to him, but it makes Harry smile a little so Zayn counts it as a win.

“Thanks,” Harry whispers as he climbs onto the bed. He leaves a space for Zayn, but he shakes his head.

“I kind of have to work on this for a little more,” he says and points to his drawing, a bit of sadness laced in his voice at not getting to just curl up with Harry right away. “That okay?”

If Harry really needs him that much, Zayn will work on it tomorrow. It’ll be a risk, considering this is one of the few times he really has to devote time to the drawing before it’s due, but Harry’s a bit more important than one drawing for one class. But Harry simply yawns and nods, pulling the comforter up over his shoulders and tucking his head down against it. Zayn bites his lip at how adorable it makes him look.

He turns away before he does something stupid like kiss Harry, sprawling out on the floor again and grabbing one of his graphite pencils. He reaches over and shuts his laptop so the music stops, sparing a glance over at Harry who has his eyes closed. Zayn knows he’s not sleeping, but he looks infinitely more relaxed then he had only a minute ago.

The next hour and a half is spent sketching, Harry occasionally blinking his eyes open and asking a question. More than once, when he realizes Harry isn’t sleeping at all, Zayn asks if he wants him to stop and turn off the light, but Harry just mumbles that the sound of him sketching is oddly soothing, so Zayn stops worrying.

When his eyes start drooping, Zayn packs everything up and shoves it on his desk. He flicks off the overhead light and climbs into the bed behind Harry. But Harry doesn’t press back against him, instead rolling over so their legs are tangled together and his head is cradled against Zayn’s chest. Shivering as Harry breathes out against his bare chest, Zayn wraps his arms tighter around him.

Just as he feels sleep tugging him under, Harry starts shaking slightly in his arms and something wet falls against his chest. It takes him a few seconds, but Zayn realizes Harry’s crying and then he’s immediately wide awake.

“Haz?” he asks quietly, moving to untangle himself to get a better look at him, but Harry wraps his arms around his waist and clings to him tighter.

Zayn feels a little lost, unsure exactly what’s going on or why Harry’s crying. Instead of saying anything else though, he simply holds Harry just as tight as Harry is holding him. He presses his lips against Harry’s forehead for a long few seconds, brushing his hair back from his face and resting their foreheads together. It’s intimate, more intimate then he’s been with anyone in a long time, but Zayn doesn’t think about that at the moment. All he wants to know is why tears are leaking from Harry’s eyes, and all he wants to do is make it _stop._ Someone like Harry shouldn’t cry. He’s much too bright of a person to be sad like this.

Briefly, Zayn wonders if this has something to do with Nick. Maybe they broke up or had a fight. Zayn feels at war with the thought, part of him glad Harry’s coming to him when he’s upset and the other annoyed that Harry is coming to him when he’s upset about _Nick._

Zayn remembers a minute later that Harry and Niall had locked themselves in Niall’s room for the night to write, so whatever this is probably has nothing to do with Nick. Once again he wonders why Harry isn’t with Niall instead if he’d been this upset before too, but he squashes the thought quickly. This isn’t what Harry needs – Zayn wondering why he’s here and upset and choosing Zayn to cry in front of. Zayn shakes his head and focuses back on Harry.

Slowly, he wipes away the tears from Harry’s cheeks with his thumbs, able to make out Harry staring up at him even in the dark. He smiles a little to reassure him, unsure if Harry can actually see it but it’s worth a try anyway.

“You okay, babe?” he asks quietly, even though the answer is pretty obviously a no.

Harry just tucks his head in against the space between Zayn’s neck and shoulder instead of saying anything, a few more errant tears falling against his skin. Zayn rubs soft circles against his back in order to help soothe him a bit more.

Harry’s mumbling against him, but Zayn can’t particularly make out the words. He thinks he hears the word “worthless” thrown out, but he can’t be sure. So Zayn holds him tighter and whispers, “You’re amazing.”

The tightening of arms around him is the only indication he gets that Harry hears him.

It takes a little while, but Harry’s breathing slowly begins to even out and he falls asleep, body still wrapped tight around Zayn. Zayn pulls the comforter up over their bodies more, brushing Harry’s hair back from where it fell in front of his face. Closing his eyes, Zayn struggles to actually fall asleep. He’s worried, is the thing. Every now and then Harry might look sad or have a bad day, but Zayn’s never seen him break down and cry like this. He knows Harry’s sensitive, it’s impossible not to tell after spending just five minutes with him, but he gets a sinking feeling this is more than someone hurting his feelings with a stupid comment.

Zayn thinks back to the bruises he saw weeks ago, remembers the worry that he sometimes sees flash across Louis’ face or Niall’s face when Harry is around. Part of him thinks it’s all somehow related – but he doesn’t quite know what it all means. But he knows one thing for certain, something is wrong in Harry’s life and Zayn wants to make it better.

The problem, though, is that Harry doesn’t seem to want to tell him what is actually going on, and Zayn knows neither Louis nor Niall will tell him. And he would get frustrated, but he knows Liam would be the exact same way if something was going on with Zayn and the others were asking about him.

It’s another hour before Zayn’s brain quiets enough for sleep to take over, and he knows he’ll be bone tired in the morning when he has to get up for class, but it’s worth it to have Harry calm and asleep in his arms.

Zayn’s last thought before he drifts off is that Harry Styles makes it way too simple to fall in love with him.

\---

When Zayn wakes up the next morning, it’s to bright green eyes watching him and fingers tracing over the tattoos on his skin. Zayn stares back at Harry, goosebumps breaking out on his skin with every light touch.

“Sorry for last night,” Harry finally whispers five minutes later. “But thank you.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Zayn reassures quickly. Harry smiles a little, but it still feels a bit off. “I promise, Haz. It’s okay.”

A dimple deepens in Harry’s cheek and some of the tension leaves Zayn’s body at the sight. There’s a little more light in Harry’s eyes now, and even though he sniffles a little, he looks infinitely happier then he had when he knocked on Zayn’s bedroom door.

“You’re a good pillow,” Harry teases, pushing Zayn onto his back and laying his head against his chest again. Zayn just laughs, fingers trailing over Harry’s back slowly as he stares at the ceiling.

“Cuddle whore,” he murmurs fondly.

Zayn wants to ask, he really does; wants to know what exactly that was last night. But something tells him to keep quiet, that Harry won’t answer if he does ask and might just close back up. And Zayn doesn’t want that, much prefers it when Harry is cuddly and open like this.

If Harry wants to tell him, he’ll tell him.

They stay that way for a few more minutes before Harry has to get up for class. He thanks Zayn again, giving him a soft smile as he leaves the room.

After that night, Zayn finds Harry in his room more often then not when they’re both home. Zayn will sprawl out over the floor and sketch while Harry fiddles with a guitar on the bed, working out a new song. Sometimes, when he’s lucky, Zayn gets to hear him sing a few bars, and he just about melts completely every time that happens. He’s still waiting for Harry to drag him to an open mic night.

Other times, Zayn comes home to see Harry sleeping in his bed. It’s usually during the day – Zayn long ago learned that Harry is a napper – and sometimes he climbs in with him, but other times he simply tucks Harry’s curls back behind his ear and lets him sleep.

One night, two weeks later, Harry doesn’t even knock before coming into Zayn’s room in the middle of the night. Liam’s asleep, but he stopped questioning Harry’s new obsession with Zayn’s bed after the first two times he walked in on him sleeping there when Zayn wasn’t even around. Harry tiptoes into the room, and Zayn’s awake enough to lift the covers for him so he can climb in.

“Louis is mean, and you’re warm and cuddly,” is the only explanation Harry offers when he curls up against Zayn. Instead of saying anything, Zayn just wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and tucks his head in against the back of his neck as he spoons him. He’s just glad Harry seems to come home at night a bit more now.

\---

It’s the first week of December when Zayn realizes his feelings for Harry are getting a tad bit out of control. The other night the five of them were watching a movie; Niall was sprawled out over the armchair with Liam sitting on the floor in front of it. Zayn and Louis were sitting on opposite sides of the couch with Harry laying on them, his head pillowed on Zayn’s lap and calves resting over Louis. Zayn didn’t miss the looks Niall and Louis gave him any time Harry shifted to curl in further against him, and he didn’t miss the looks Liam gave him either when he started playing with Harry’s curls.

So everyone seems to know that Zayn’s fallen for Harry, except Harry, that is.

Even Ben knows. He’s currently sat on his couch flicking through Ben’s sketchbook, making notes on a separate piece of paper on places that feel a bit off, whether it’s the shading or the dimensions or the horizon line or something else entirely. Ben is doing the same for Zayn, except he’s looking at a few of the sketches he has outlined for his capstone. Which Zayn doesn’t actually officially start until the spring semester, but he’d rather have a good bit of it done, or at least a solid idea for his main focus, so he’s not struggling to finish it on top of graduating and his other classes.

“Whose eyes?” Ben asks, holding the sketchpad up and Zayn blushes a little when he sees green staring back at him. He hasn’t actually drawn Harry in that book yet, the one where he draws his more graphic styles stuff. He hasn’t quite figured out how to turn Harry into a comic book character style drawing while capturing him at the same time. But he’s been experimenting with his eyes.

“It’s the guy you live with that you’re crushing on, isn’t it?” Ben says with a smirk, taking Zayn’s silence as confirmation. Zayn regrets letting it slip that he had a crush on his flat mate the other week during class when Ben asked if he was seeing someone.

It’s thirty minutes before they say anything else. Ben snaps Zayn’s sketchbook closed and throws it onto the coffee table. Zayn closes Ben’s book a bit more gently, body tensing when he notices that he’s being stared at.

“What?” he asks a bit self-consciously.

Ben just smiles. “You need to fuck someone.”

Zayn blanches, eyes wide as he tries to stutter out some response.

“No, listen to me, Zayn. You can’t get over this guy, right? And you mentioned he has a boyfriend? So what better way to get over someone then by getting under someone else?”

Ben wiggles his eyebrows and Zayn finds himself questioning, not for the first time, why exactly it is he’s friends with him. They’d met sophomore during a craft course, bonding over a mutual dislike for their teacher who seemed to only care about getting his students to paint in his style then focusing on helping them find their own style. They weren’t exactly close after that, but Ben was one of the few art majors Zayn could stand for more then twenty minutes, so they stuck together a bit. It’s probably good their plans to move in together didn’t work out though, because Zayn’s not sure that he could’ve dealt with Ben on a daily basis.

“I’ll set you up with this guy I know. He’s a great fuck.”

There’s something a little off about Ben’s grin, a spark in his eyes that Zayn should really question, but he doesn’t.

“I don’t want to just fuck someone,” Zayn says, scratching the back of his neck. Zayn’s had a few one-night stands in the past, but it’s not really something he wants right now. He’d rather have a relationship than a random string of people in and out of his bed. Ben never cared, always preferred a no-strings-attached thing instead of a relationship. So Zayn doubts this guy Ben apparently wants to set him up with is going to interest Zayn in anyway that really matters.

Ben narrows his eyes, head tilted to the side like he’s thinking. Zayn should really ask why a smirk comes across Ben’s lips and he looks almost…gleeful. But Zayn remains silent still.

“Fine, I’ll set it up for dinner first, although he’s not big on that. And then, if you like him, you can fuck him.”

Zayn should question the comment about dinner, and he really shouldn’t agree, typically abhors blind dates, but he needs to get over Harry because things will only get worse if he doesn’t. He’s not sure how many more times Harry can crawl into his bed at night before Zayn spontaneously combusts with want.

“Fine,” Zayn hears himself saying, even though he’s still a bit unsure. But, at this point, if it means getting rid of his feelings for Harry, Zayn will go on a damn blind date.

\---

“Are you sure about this?”

Zayn looks over at Liam as he buttons up his shirt. He’s standing next to his bed with his arms crossed, a frown on his face as he watches Zayn. Ever since Zayn mentioned Ben’s ‘plan’ from the other day, Liam’s been trying to convince him not to go and find some other way to get over Harry. Well, he actually wants Zayn to just tell Harry about how he feels, but that’s one line Zayn’s not about to cross. He won’t be the one to make their living situation awkward by admitting he likes Harry and not having his feelings returned.

“It’s a date, Li. If I don’t like him, I can leave,” Zayn says with a shrug, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair and a beanie from the closet. He’d rather not mess up his hair, but it’s too cold for him to walk outside without a hat.

Liam sighs and throws his hands up in the air.

“Why won’t you just _talk_ to Harry?” he asks, clearly exasperated and Zayn thinks he sounds a bit angry as well.

“Why should I?” Zayn counters, glaring at Liam. They’ve been fighting about this increasingly lately, and Zayn would rather Liam just drop it and let Zayn find a way to get over his crush than pushing him to admit it and make things worse. “I don’t need the rejection, thanks.”

Zayn goes to leave, but Liam is suddenly there with his hand on the door to keep it shut.

“You don’t know that he’ll reject you,” Liam insists, and Zayn just rolls his eyes.

“He has a boyfriend. Think that’s a pretty clear hint that Harry is off the market.”

Zayn tries to tug Liam’s arm off the door so he can fucking _leave,_ but Liam stays rooted to the spot. Not for the first time, Zayn curses Liam for being stronger than him.

“I _really_ don’t think Nick is his boyfriend, mate.”

Zayn pauses in his efforts to move Liam, eyes narrowing as he looks at his best friend. Liam won’t look at him, eyes focused on something just over Zayn’s shoulder, and it hits Zayn then that Liam clearly knows _something._

“What do you know?” he asks, stepping back and crossing his arms to assess Liam.

He doesn’t really know what Liam knows, or _how_ he would know anything considering he’s not the best of friends with Harry or anything. But Liam still won’t look at him and he’s biting his lip, one of his tells when he’s trying to keep something a secret. And Zayn knows Liam has something to tell him, but he also knows he’s not going to. Because, if nothing else, Liam is unfailingly loyal to those who place their trust in him. And if Harry’s told him something and asked him not to tell anyone else, Liam won’t say anything. Even if it’s about Zayn or is something that would convince Zayn not to go on a date with a random guy.

Zayn assesses Liam for another minute.

“Just tell me this,” he starts, fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket. “Do you know if Harry likes me? As more than a friend?”

Liam doesn’t answer at first, but finally he relents and shakes his head the smallest amount.

Zayn takes that as confirmation of what he thinks he already knows, that Harry doesn’t like him _that way,_ and walks out of the room and out of the apartment.

When he gets out to street, Zayn grabs the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lights one, taking a long drag to calm his anger with Liam. He’s also left fifteen minutes early, so he needs to waste time somehow.

Zayn loves Liam, he really does. He’s not quite sure how he would’ve made it through freshman year without him; he was a shy, awkward kid who wasn’t quite comfortable walking up to anyone and saying hi. It took him two weeks to even have a proper conversation with Liam. But once he did, and learned that sometimes Liam says something dumb because he doesn’t always think before he speaks but isn’t trying to hurt anyone, Zayn latched onto Liam for the rest of the year. And somehow, Liam grew just as attached to Zayn. So Zayn knows he can trust Liam, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate certain things about his personality.

It’s not that fact that Liam’s loyal that Zayn hates; he admires it more than anything. It’s that Liam is loyal, even if that means keeping something from Zayn because someone asked him to. He was never one to live by the rule that when someone asks you not to say something, you then think to yourself “of course I won’t tell anyone, except for my best friend” while simultaneously promising them silence. No, Liam’s silence was always there no matter what. And Zayn loves it about him, but right now, when it means Liam knows something about Harry that Zayn doesn’t, he just finds it fucking annoying. Because Harry’s become his closest friend after Liam, and he’s constantly there – telling a joke, playing the guitar, falling asleep on his bed, asking to look at his sketches, or just sitting on the couch eating a bowl of fruit like the weird health nut he is. Harry’s _there_ constantly, and Zayn doesn’t understand why Liam would know anything before him.

Because Zayn knows _something_ is going on with Harry. He’ll talk to Zayn about pretty much anything, but anytime Zayn brings up relationships or work or money or anything along those lines, Harry shuts down and changes the subject. He won’t tell Zayn anything, and he feels like it’s a bit unfair that Liam gets to be let in on the fucking secret that appears to be Harry’s life outside of school but Zayn, the guy Harry snuggles up with at least two nights a week, doesn’t get to see that side of him.

Rationally, Zayn knows Harry probably has his reasons. But irrationally, Zayn just takes it as a confirmation that Harry doesn’t care about Zayn nearly as much as Zayn cares about him, so if he decides to go on a date to get over him, then Liam can just deal with it.

Zayn presses his cigarette out against the building, flicking it into the trashcan afterwards. He pulls out his phone when it beeps, a text from Ben popping up.

_He’ll be wearing a black button down with fucking flamingos on it. Have fun ;)_

Zayn snorts at the description, idly wondering how he’s supposed to get over Harry when this guy seems to dress just as absurdly as Harry does at times.

The subway ride is spent with Zayn trying to avoid thinking of Harry. That’s been a problem lately, too. It’s not just that he constantly wants to touch Harry when he’s around or stares at him when he’s not looking. No, his brain is betraying him as well, and Harry flickers through his mind at least a few times each day. But Harry’s not here, Zayn reminds himself. And he’s on his way to a date – which will probably be a dud because _Ben_ is the one who set this up, but if it distracts him for just one night, he’ll count it as a win.

When he gets to the restaurant, Zayn takes a deep breath and whips his beanie off, shaking out his hair and pushing it out of his face. He scratches at one of the shaved sides, thinking he should get them shaved again next time he has the chance because they’re getting a little long. Before he can actually walk inside though, his phone buzzes in his pocket with messages from Liam.

_I know you’re mad at me, but you should talk to Harry. - L_

_He clearly wants you to. – L_

_If he wants to talk to me, he knows where I live. – Z_

_C’mon. Don’t be difficult. – L_

_I’m not. I’m at the restaurant and I have a date. I’ll see you later. – Z_

_Zayn... – L_

Zayn puts his phone on silent and pockets it, refusing to focus on Liam and Harry when he’s here to forget about the whole fucking thing. If Harry wants to talk to him, Zayn is waiting right there down the hall every night. For now though, he has a date with guy that he let fucking _Ben_ set him up with, and this will either be a total disaster or not half bad. It probably won’t go great in any way, mainly because Zayn still can’t stop thinking about Harry Styles, but as he walks into the restaurant, he pushes all thoughts of him to the back of his mind.

Something that proves to only last for a few seconds, because the hostess (after he tells her his date is already here like Ben said he’d be) is leading him through various tables, stopping in front of one. She waves her hand, murmurs that the waiter will be with them in a moment, and walks away.

Zayn stays frozen where he is though, because the person sitting in that chair is Harry Styles, wearing a stupid black button down with flamingos on it. A thought tugs at the back of his mind, that he should’ve figured this out earlier because Zayn has actually seen that shirt at least three times, but he was too focused on his plan to get over Harry to actually consider that somehow his blind date _would be Harry._ He doesn’t quite get it, but maybe this is what Liam had been trying to tell him. Zayn swears if he finds out Liam knew Harry was the person he was being set-up with, he’ll punch him in the face for not warning him.

Is this why Liam was so sure Nick wasn’t Harry’s boyfriend? Zayn thinks that makes some sense, and once again, he swears to punch Liam next time he sees him. Maybe he’ll ask Louis for some tips on how to torment him, seeing as it’s his favorite past time. Zayn’s still unsure about the whole Nick situation, but if Harry agreed to a blind date, he has to be single. And Zayn really needs to know how it is Harry knows _Ben_ of all people, but then he remembers what Ben said when he was offering to set him up and quickly backtracks on that thought. He doesn’t want to think about Harry and Ben like _that._

But Harry’s here now. Here with _Zayn._ So he doesn’t particularly care how it happened, because he’s at a restaurant for a blind date with Harry, the boy he’s all but in love with, and he’s not going to question it too much. It could go great; it could go bad. Harry might rebuff him as a date and just want dinner as friends, but maybe, just maybe, Zayn can make this an actual date.

“Harry…” Zayn breathes, shaking his head to come out of the trance he’s been in. He doesn’t move to sit down, still a bit in shock that Harry is actually sitting here in front of him. But now that he’s not as lost in his own thoughts, he takes a moment to actually _look_ at Harry, and there’s no smile on his face. In fact, he looks scarily pale, like all the blood had rushed out of him the second he noticed Zayn.

Zayn feels cold, the smile freezing on his face at how Harry’s appearance. He actually looks like he might be sick, and Zayn’s slightly offended and averts his gaze. Even if Harry doesn’t want to be on a date with him, they’re still friends and they can just turn this into a random dinner instead of having to make it anything romantic.

At the sound of silverware clattering, Zayn glances back at Harry to see one of his hands trembling on the table, the other covering his mouth. His eyes are wide now, staring at Zayn in shock and there’s something else there too. Anger slowly filling him if the tension in his shoulders means anything, and there’s hurt in his eyes. A deep hurt, almost like a betrayal, and Zayn doesn’t understand why Harry looks like this, has no idea what he’s done.

Harry’s body is shaking a little now, the tremor having migrated from his hand to the rest of him. Zayn reaches a hand out to touch him, to offer him comfort, to ask what’s _wrong,_ but Harry slides back in his chair quickly. There are a few tears in his eyes, and Harry wipes furiously at one that slides down his cheek. Zayn doesn’t like it, doesn’t like seeing Harry like this at all, feels a bit sick himself.

“I…” Zayn starts to say, snapping his mouth closed when he realizes he doesn’t know what to say because he’s so fucking confused about what is happening.

The sound seems to jerk Harry into action though, because he stands up, fingers curling around the glass of water, and then it’s thrown in Zayn’s face.

“I can’t believe…I just…I can’t believe _you_ would…I…why?” Harry stutters out, voice laced with a bitterness that Zayn doesn’t understand. His green eyes are dark, all the light gone from them, and Zayn hates that more than anything.

Zayn grabs a napkin off the table and wipes his face, ignoring the stares coming from what seems like everyone in the restaurant. Before Zayn can say anything, ask why Harry threw water in his face and what he meant, Harry is gone and Zayn’s left standing there alone, cold water seeping through his shirt.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, but the next thing that registers in his mind is that he’s out on the sidewalk, phone in his hand with three text messages. Apparently however long he stood frozen in the restaurant, trying to figure out what had just happened, was enough time for Harry to at least call Louis and tell him what happened.

_Why would you do that to Harry? – Niall_

_What did you do? – Liam_

_You’re fucking dead. – Louis_

Zayn stares at the messages, even more confusion filling him. All he knows is that, somehow, he hurt Harry, and the thought of it makes him sick. The last thing he _ever_ wants to do is hurt Harry, and now he’s, apparently, royally fucked up and hurt him bad.

Part of him is angry though, too. Because Zayn didn’t _do_ anything, and Harry gave zero explanation for why he was so upset.

Instead of taking the subway back, Zayn walks the thirty blocks to the apartment. It takes a while, and he walks slow, but he knows Louis might try to jump him the second he walks through the door, and Zayn’s not actually trying to die tonight.

When he gets back to the apartment, he opens the door as softly as possible, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief when he sees that the common areas are all vacant. Niall’s door is wide open, but he hears hushed voices and what sounds like sobbing coming from behind Louis and Harry’s door, so he knows that’s where Niall is.

He thinks about knocking on the door, asking Harry to fucking explain so he can _fix this,_ but something in him knows that’s not actually the best idea right now. Instead, he closes the front door behind him and flicks the locks, walking carefully to his and Liam’s room. If the others hear him, they don’t come out and Zayn’s happy about that. He still doesn’t know what’s going on, but the drink in his face and the three text messages were clear signs that something went really wrong.

Liam’s sitting cross-legged on Zayn’s bed when he walks in, arms propped on his knees and head in his heads. Zayn thinks he looks a lot like Zayn feels right now.

“Liam,” Zayn chokes out, voice breaking as the realization of just how messed up everything is fully hits him. “I don’t know what happened.”

Zayn feels Liam’s eyes staring at him, judging him and trying to assess whether or not he’s telling the truth. He’s never had Liam look at him like that; there’d never been a reason for it, but his stare makes Zayn feel small. He wants to shrink into the corner and forget this night ever happened, go back in time to a few hours before and listen when Liam tells him not to go out.

Finally, Liam sighs and pats the bed next to him. “I know,” he murmurs as Zayn walks over, toeing off his boots and climbing onto the bed to lie down. Liam lies down on his back with him.

“Will you tell me what you know?” Zayn asks after ten minutes of silence; he thinks he’s entitled to knowing what happened and why Harry is so upset.

“Don’t know exactly. Harry went straight to his room with Louis and Niall disappeared in there a few minutes after.”

Zayn sighs and rubs a hand over his face, tugging at the skin underneath his eyes a little. He feels bone-tired from the long walk home, and also from the emotional stress of trying find out what’s going on with Harry.

“What about before? Harry’s told you _something,_ Li.”

Liam looks a bit uncomfortable, but he doesn’t deny it.

“You need to talk to Harry,” is the only thing Liam offers.

Zayn scoffs and tugs at his hair a little. “I’d love to, but he seems a tad bit upset with me right now.”

Liam sighs and glances over at Zayn, pity coloring his eyes. Zayn doesn’t want his pity, would prefer Liam just fucking told him what is going on. He hates this, feeling completely lost and like people are hiding things from him. He hates that Harry’s in the other room sobbing because of him and he can’t fix it because he doesn’t know how because he doesn’t know what happened.

“Give him time. I…” Liam sighs, “It’s not my place to tell you.”

Zayn considers slapping Liam, but he holds back.

“I’m going to sleep,” Zayn says, but Liam doesn’t move, just reaches over to flick the bedside lamp off, bathing the room in darkness.

Zayn forces his eyes closed even though he’s not particularly tired, mind still racing fast. But he’s going to force himself to sleep, because maybe in the morning someone will explain this to him and he can fix his relationship with Harry.

He falls asleep after a while; Harry’s face looking completely betrayed is the last thing he sees before he slips into unconsciousness.

\---

In the morning, Zayn somehow manages to feel worse. There’s a headache growing behind his eyes, and he still feels too tired to wake up properly. His only saving grace is that it’s Sunday, so he doesn’t have classes to worry about. Any work he has to do he knows won’t actually get done; he won’t be able to focus on anything but Harry until he fixes this.

But Zayn doesn’t move from under the covers. In fact, he simply pulls them up further and over his head. Liam’s not in the room, and he doesn’t know if Louis, Niall, and Harry are in the apartment somewhere. He’s surprised he didn’t wake up tied to the bed or with his stuff thrown across the room or some other thing Louis would do to get back at him. Zayn almost wishes he had woken up to that, because then he’d have some idea what was going on in the apartment. But for now, it’s just quiet and Zayn takes a moment to question if the other boys even know he came back here last night. Liam wouldn’t tell them, knows how upset the others are and how confused Zayn is.

So maybe if he stays hidden here, he can avoid Louis yelling and Niall judging him and Harry’s tears.

His phone is ringing before he has a chance to think further on it, and Zayn glances at the caller ID to see it’s his mom. He considers screening it, but then again maybe she’ll have some advice about what to do, so he answers it.

“Hi, Mom,” he breathes out.

“Hello, love,” she says, her voice warm and comforting already. “How are you?”

Zayn bites his lip. He doesn’t actually know how he’s feeling. Everything’s a mixture of anger and sadness and annoyance and regret and every other emotion.

“I think I messed up,” is what he chooses to say.

His mom doesn’t ask, doesn’t say anything but wait for him to continue. She knows him, knows that Zayn needs to work through things by just talking sometimes, even if it’s all jumbled and makes no sense and he flies from thought to thought.

“I got set-up on a blind date last night, and it was Harry,” he starts, ignoring the soft coo that comes from his mom. He hadn’t come right out and told her how he felt about Harry, but Zayn knew his voice got soft and loving whenever he talked about him. Liam had teased him about it enough.

“But he wasn’t…I don’t know, he looked horrified. And betrayed. And he threw water in my face and then left and now everyone’s mad at me. Well, except Liam because there’s obviously something about this I don’t know about, because I didn’t _do_ anything. But Harry was so sad, and I hate that I made him feel like that but I’m angry that no one will tell me what happened and I…”

Zayn trails off, rubbing at his forehead with a sigh. He just wants to know what he did, because obviously Zayn did something.

“Have you talked to Harry?” his mom asks after a minute.

“Not yet. I’m kind of…afraid to leave my room,” Zayn admits, biting his lip. He knows it’s cowardly, but he doesn’t know how he’ll deal with it if Harry’s still crying. And he’s also a bit terrified of Louis, because if Zayn has learned one thing during his time living with the other boys, it’s that Louis is extremely protective of Harry. Niall is too, just as quick to defend him or comfort him when Harry needs it, but Louis is fierce about it in a way Niall isn’t.

“I don’t know what happened, love,” his mom says; she sounds a bit confused and Zayn can’t blame her. He’s confused as well. “But I know I didn’t raise you to hide from your mistakes.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Zayn nearly shouts, eyes wide as he looks at the door. Luckily no one comes in.

“Harry thinks you did,” his mom points out, and Zayn doesn’t want to hear that right now. Because it’s really not fair that Harry is blaming him for nothing. “And that’s enough. So you go talk to that boy and make it right.”

Zayn knows if he were at home, she’d be glaring at him and smack him gently upside the head until he went to face his problems. But Zayn doesn’t like confrontation and yelling and screaming. He can get rightfully angry himself and defensive, but that doesn’t mean he likes to be like that. And he doesn’t want to yell at Harry, because something in him knows that that will just make things infinitely worse. Part of him does want to yell at Harry a bit though, scream at him that Harry hasn’t told him anything so whatever Zayn did, Harry needs to fucking explain.

“Go fix things,” his mom says when Zayn doesn’t respond. “We’ll talk again later.”

She tells him she loves him and Zayn mutters the sentiment back, and then she’s gone and Zayn’s left alone to try to figure out what to do. There’s nothing specific he can do, though, except get out of bed and face everyone.

Taking a deep breath, Zayn throws the covers off his body and stands up. He pulls on an old sweatshirt and opens the door slowly. He sees the back of Harry’s head peaking out over the couch; the TV’s on and it sounds like _Love, Actually._ It’s Harry’s comfort movie, and Zayn normally likes to watch it, but right now it’s the worst movie in the world to him.

He doesn’t know where the others are, but his whole focus is on Harry really. He shuffles closer to the couch, taking note of the blanket wrapped around Harry’s shoulders and the soft sniffles coming from him. Zayn’s never hated a sound more in his life.

“Harry,” Zayn whispers, voice so quiet he’s surprised he was heard. But Harry turns to him, eyes wide as he realizes Zayn is standing next to him. He can see the red lining the rims of his eyes and how bloodshot they are, knows that means Harry’s been crying and probably didn’t get any sleep the night before. He’s starting to shake a little, face pale like it was at the restaurant last night. All Zayn can think is that Harry still looks so broken and betrayed, and Zayn doesn’t even care that no one’s telling him anything anymore. He just wants to fix _this,_ because seeing Harry Styles sad is probably the worst thing to ever happen to him.

Neither of them say anything; Zayn’s unsure where to begin and Harry’s still staring at him wide-eyed. But then his face starts to close off, lips drawing into a thin line and eyes narrowing. Zayn can see tears starting to pool in his eyes, but he can also see the determination in Harry’s face to not let them fall. Zayn takes a step forward, arm reaching out towards him, but it just makes Harry stand up and stumble backwards. He doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head repeatedly and holds the blanket tighter around his shoulders. And then the apartment door opens and closes and Harry’s no longer there, and Zayn’s left alone in the living room.

Louis comes out of his and Harry’s room a few seconds later, taking one look at Zayn and then disappearing. He emerges again with two coats and scarves and even a pair of shoes in his hands. With a long glare at Zayn, he leaves the apartment as well and Zayn knows he went to find Harry. He doubts Harry went anywhere really, probably sitting on the stairs to the roof since it’s too cold to actually go up there right now, especially if he doesn’t have a coat with him. Zayn wants to follow, wants to make Harry talk to him, but he stays where he is.

There was something cold in Louis’ eyes, and that one look held so much hatred in it that Zayn knows the second he tries to follow Harry, Louis will be there stopping him.

Zayn lets out a tired sigh and collapses on the couch, head in his hands. He feels a dip in the couch a few minutes later, glancing over to see Niall sitting there and biting his lip. He looks uncomfortable, but Zayn would rather have that then the pure hate Louis had directed at him earlier.

“Why would you do that to Harry?” Niall asks softly when Zayn doesn’t say anything.

Zayn scoffs, tugging at his hair a little before he sits up and really looks at Niall. Niall looks just as tired as Zayn feels; he was probably up all night with Harry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Zayn finally says, leaning back on the couch and pulling his knees up to his chest. He picks at some of the lint on his sweatpants, hands shaking a little as he does.

He’s not looking at Niall, but he can feel his eyes on him. He knows what Niall’s doing, searching his face for a sign that he’s lying or something, but Zayn’s not. There’s no explanation for him to give Niall because Zayn genuinely doesn’t know what is going on.

“Harry’s on the roof,” Niall says a little bit later, “Goes there anytime he’s upset. But Louis is with him, so I wouldn’t go up there.”

Zayn’s already aware of all of this, but he thinks it’s Niall’s way of saying he believes him. Before Zayn can say anything or ask Niall to explain everything, Niall’s gone and his door is shut, letting Zayn know that he’s not welcome in his room at the moment. He doesn’t really know if Niall believes him or not, but he hopes he does. Because maybe if Niall believes him, he’ll get Harry and Louis to listen so Zayn can actually get an explanation for all of this.

He sits there until the movie is over, credits just starting to roll when the apartment door opens. He glances behind him to see Louis walking through the door, but there’s no Harry with him and Zayn feels his stomach drop out. Harry’s not just upset with him, it seems he’s proper avoiding him.

Louis doesn’t come over to him immediately, pausing to take his coat and scarf off and throw them into his room. But then he’s standing in front of Zayn, looking down on him and Zayn has never felt so small in his life. Not even when his dad yelled at him the time he really upset Doniya had Zayn felt like this. Louis is _glaring_ and Zayn’s honestly scared of him. In the back of his mind, he finds he’s glad Harry has someone who will be like this for him, but Zayn would much rather it not be directed at _him_.

“I actually thought you were good for him,” Louis scoffs, arms crossed as he continues to glare. Zayn opens his mouth to say something, but the words are literally knocked out of him.

Once the shock wears off, Zayn’s hand goes to his chin and presses lightly at the now tender skin. His lip is bleeding a little from where he bit it when Louis _punched_ him. There’s a slightly satisfied look on Louis’ face, and the pain starts to hit Zayn then, radiating throughout his face and he winces when he touches his jaw again.

“Louis…” Zayn starts to say, but Louis shuts him up with another glare. Until now, Zayn didn’t know someone could look at someone else with so much hatred in their eyes.

“Stay the fuck away from Harry,” Louis says, and Zayn can hear the warning in his voice. The unspoken “or I’ll beat your ass” hangs in the room between them.

Zayn doesn’t nod or promise to keep his distance, knows it would be a complete lie, but Louis doesn’t wait for Zayn to acknowledge what he said. He’s gone from the living room, the bedroom door slammed shut behind him, leaving Zayn alone on the couch with a throbbing pain in his chin and blood dripping from his lip.

Zayn’s stomach churns and he rushes to the bathroom. He dry heaves, nothing in his stomach to actually throw up. When he doesn’t feel as sick, Zayn stands on shaky legs and cleans the cut on his lip. He grabs an ice pack from the freezer and goes back to his bed, deciding the best plan of action right now is to hide from the world under the covers, because clearly there’s nothing else he can do for now.

Liam comes back an hour later, but he doesn’t say anything or ask Zayn if he’s gotten up. The bruise forming on his chin and the red of his eyes is all Liam needs to know. He climbs into the bed and pulls Zayn into his arms, but even as Zayn curls against him and closes his eyes, he finds he’s never felt so alone before in his life.

\---

The next few days pass slowly. Harry hasn’t come back to the apartment, Niall gives him sad looks every time they see each other, Liam looks a little lost at what to say exactly, and Louis just glares anytime they’re in the same room. Zayn’s called Harry a few times, texted him that he’s sorry and that he doesn’t understand, but he gets nothing but radio silence in return.

During class, Zayn can’t concentrate on anything, which is bad considering the semester will be ending soon and then he’ll have finals. But no matter how hard he tries, Zayn can’t push Harry from the forefront of his mind. He goes over that night repeatedly, trying to find where things went wrong and he continuously comes up with nothing.

When he gets back to the apartment, Niall is sitting on the couch with his guitar working on a song. If it were any other day, Harry would be right there with him, laughing at a stupid lyric or humming a melody. It’s weird seeing Niall writing without Harry there as well, thinks it’s probably just as weird for Niall.

“Niall?” Zayn asks, walking over to the edge of the couch. Niall looks up at him, waiting for him to say something. He hasn’t been cold to Zayn per se, but they haven’t really spoken much either. “Where’s Harry been staying?”

Niall sighs and plucks out a few chords on the guitar. “Nick’s. He’s not comfortable being here right now.”

Guilt swarms through Zayn at the admission, but he doesn’t ask Niall anything else. He hates that Harry’s been driven from their apartment, hates even more that it’s Nick’s place that he’s at. But Zayn did this, whatever _this_ is, so he doesn’t really have the room to be upset about it. As much as he wants Harry here and to be the one comforting him, it’s clear that that’s the last thing Harry wants.

He goes into his room and lies down on the floor on his stomach, his sketches spread out in front of him as he tries to work. But it’s not the same now. There’s no Harry sitting on his bed and humming random tunes, occasionally looking over and asking Zayn what he’s working at. He can feel his absence like a presence, and Zayn doesn’t know how he became so attached in just a few months, but his world feels a bit empty without Harry there. He feels like he’s stumbling around blindly without him.

Which is how Zayn finds himself outside Nick’s apartment building late that afternoon, hands wringing together in front of him with nerves. He shouldn’t be here, but he wasn’t able to stop himself from coming. He slips into the building as someone comes out, climbing the stairs to the second floor where Liam had told him Nick lived. He’s not quite sure how Liam knew Nick’s apartment number, figures he weaseled it out of Niall when Zayn mentioned needing to know.

Harry won’t return his calls, won’t answer a text message, and won’t come back to the apartment, and Zayn needs to do something. And maybe it’s a bit rash, but that’s how he finds himself knocking on apartment 210, holding his breath as he hears a lock turning and then the door is open.

Nick is standing in front of him, hair a mess like he’s been running his hand through it repeatedly.

“Can I help you?” he asks.

Zayn takes a deep breath. “Is Harry here?”

Nick’s eyes narrow and his hand tightens on the door. Zayn can’t blame him, would be just as defensive of someone looking for Harry if Harry was hiding out at his apartment.

“You’re Zayn,” Nick says, eyes widening a little with the realization.

Zayn feels something flutter in his stomach at the knowledge that Nick knows who he is. Harry’s talked about him, but part of that joy is diminished when Zayn realizes that of course Nick would know who he is. Zayn’s the reason Harry won’t go back to his own apartment.

“I am,” he nods, scratching at his beard. It’s getting a little long – Zayn hasn’t been taking much care of it the past few days.

“Harry’s not here,” Nick tells him, voice suddenly cold and he’s straightening his back, standing up taller and taking a step forward so he’s hovering over Zayn a little.

Zayn can sense the warning, knows Nick is probably lying, but before he can call him out on it, the door is slammed in his face and he’s left staring at chipped white paint. He’s not exactly surprised. His hand is in the air to knock again, but Zayn thinks better of it. Nick won’t answer again, and even if he did, Zayn’s not looking to get another punch in the face. The one from Louis has finally stopped aching.

Zayn leaves and when he gets home a little while later, Liam is in the kitchen making a sandwich for himself and the rest of the apartment is quiet. He collapses in a chair, head falling forward against the counter as he groans. Liam doesn’t pause what he’s doing, used to Zayn’s antics. He also knows more than anyone else that Zayn hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Harry.

“Everything okay?” Liam asks when Zayn doesn’t lift his head or say anything.

Zayn laughs, the sound of it bitter and cold. “Yeah, everything’s just peachy,” Zayn spits out, lifting his head to level a glare at his best friend. “Went over to Nick’s to find Harry, but I just got a door slammed in my face instead. So it’s been a truly spectacular day, thanks for asking.”

Liam doesn’t even flinch at Zayn’s harsh tone; instead, he lets out a tired sigh and rests his hands against the counter. He looks down, hands curling into fists and Zayn knows that look, knows that Liam’s arguing with himself about something. Before Zayn can ask though, Liam looks up at him and nods.

“Harry asked me not to say anything – ”

“I know, Liam,” Zayn interrupts, but Liam shakes his head.

“He asked me not to, but I don’t think I can keep that promise anymore. I thought by now he would’ve talked to you, but he won’t even answer my texts so…”

Zayn raises an eyebrow, can tell Liam is a bit uncomfortable, but he’s not going to say _no_ to finding out what’s been going on with Harry. He gets that Liam doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries, that he hates telling other people’s secrets and thinks it’s like…one of the worst things someone can do. But Zayn wants to know, so he’s not going to tell Liam to continue to keep silent, especially if it explains what happened on Saturday night.

“Harry’s a hooker.”

Zayn lets out a laugh of disbelief, eyes narrowing at Liam and he’s about to tell him to stop fucking around when he notices just how serious he looks. His eyes look tired and he’s rubbing at the back of his neck. This isn’t a joke.

Harry’s a hooker.

Harry’s a _hooker._

Zayn tries to process the words, but he just finds himself more confused.

It makes a bit of sense though, explains why he’s constantly out at night and the clothes he sometimes wears when he leaves. It explains why Louis and Niall look sad when he leaves sometimes, and why they’re so protective of him. It explains the bruises Zayn had seen before. It explains the conversation he overheard between Harry and Louis about rent money and finding a better job. He doesn’t know what it has to do with what happened on Saturday, but it does make sense. And Zayn hates that it does, hates that now he knows Harry is out there selling his body.

“How do you know?” Zayn manages to ask once he’s processed the statement enough, mind still reeling a bit with the information.

“He told me a few weeks ago,” Liam sighs. Zayn wants to be angry that Harry trusted Liam with that information before Zayn, but seeing as Zayn has never been a hooker, he doesn’t quite know what the protocol is for who to trust with that information and who to keep it a secret from. He’d thought he’d made it clear to Harry that he cared about him, that they were friends more than anything else, but apparently Harry didn’t think so if he wouldn’t tell him about this.

“He was looking for you,” Liam continues, and Zayn’s head shoots up, eyes wide as he stares at Liam. He realizes he needs to stop jumping to conclusions about this and just let Liam talk and explain everything.

“He was drunk and came stumbling into our room, collapsed on my bed thinking it was yours. You were at the studio, said you had to stay there all night to finish a project.”

Zayn remembers that night a little, how he’d fallen behind on an assignment and Harry would be too much a distraction if he tried to do it at home, so he stayed in one of the art rooms all night finishing it instead. He remembers the way Harry had avoided him for a day or two after that and how Liam looked a bit uncomfortable at times ever since then when Zayn mentioned Harry. He never really thought about it before, but now it’s clear that Liam was trying to not tell Zayn about Harry.

“He realized pretty quickly it wasn’t you, said I just didn’t feel the same,” Liam rolls his eyes, and Zayn takes a moment to smile a little at the thought that Harry was seeking him out and unhappy when he didn’t find him. “He just kind of blurted it out after that. That he’s a hooker, didn’t really explain why just that he needs the money. Mentioned Nick once, so I asked if they were dating and he said no. Apparently Nick graduated a few years ago, was in a similar position as Harry, so he helps him out and lets him crash at his place if he’s too tired to come home.

“I don’t think he realized what he was saying, but then he moved to sleep in your bed. Asked me not to say anything at all when he woke up in the morning.”

Any anger Zayn had at Liam for keeping this from him washes away because Zayn can’t fault Liam in any way for keeping this a secret. Harry had asked him too, and Harry probably didn’t even mean to tell Liam everything either. He’s never seen Harry drunk, but the boy barely has a filter to begin with so he’s not completely surprised that Harry would blurt it out, especially if he was having a bad night.

Zayn thinks back to the first night Harry came to his room, how he’d cried against him and whispered that he felt worthless. He still doesn’t know what happened that night, not sure what brought about the tears exactly, but now he knows it has something to do with this. And he hates that; he doesn’t want Harry crying or feeling worthless because Harry is pretty much everything to Zayn at this point.

He also starts to realize that a lot of the things he assumed about Harry are wrong. He doesn’t have a boyfriend, he doesn’t work at a bar or a restaurant, and worst of all, Harry’s not exactly as happy as he’d seemed.  

“What does this have to do with Saturday?” Zayn asks, still trying to piece everything together in his mind. It relates somehow, he knows it, and if he would just take time to really think about it he could probably figure it out.

“I don’t know exactly what happened,” Liam starts. He leans back against the counter and stares across at Zayn, arms crossed and eyebrows knitted together as he thinks. “Harry came back in tears. He was pretty much inconsolable he was sobbing so hard. He choked out something about a date being set up, and you being there, and how he never thought you’d do that to him. He said he never thought you’d use the truth against him like that. That’s the last thing I heard before Louis dragged him into their room with Niall.”

Zayn doesn’t quite get it, sits with Liam’s explanation for a few minutes trying to piece it all together. And then it somehow clicks for him, eyes going wide with the realization and he feels like he’s going to throw up again.

“He thought I knew,” Zayn whispers, horrified at the realization.

“He thought I knew he’s a hooker,” Zayn clarifies when Liam still looks confused. His mouth drops into a slight ‘o’ and Zayn knows Liam’s just put together the pieces the same way he has.

Zayn doesn’t know how everything got so twisted and messed up. He hates that Harry thinks Zayn would try to use him like that, and he desperately wishes Harry were here so he could clear everything up. Because that’s what this is, one huge misunderstanding that’s left Harry feeling betrayed and Zayn at a complete loss of just how to fix this.

Zayn knows one thing though, and that is that he’s going to kill Ben.

“Thanks for telling me,” Zayn’s murmurs as he slides off his chair, pulling Liam in for a quick hug before darting out the apartment.

Zayn doesn’t quite know what he’s going to say to Harry, but he knows he has to talk to him and set the record straight. But before he does that, he needs to wipe that smirk off Ben’s face, the one that he’d had when he set Zayn up on that ‘date.’ He shudders at the thought of Ben and Harry; he’d disliked it before but now he thinks it’s absolutely disgusting. He hates that Ben used Harry that way and that he then tried to use him that way _again._ It’s not even about the fact that Ben didn’t tell him he was setting him up with a hooker, doesn’t even want to think about what an asshole move that is. No, Zayn’s angry because Ben used Harry.

As he stands on the subway taking him uptown towards Ben’s place, Zayn realizes he doesn’t particularly care that Harry’s a hooker. He doesn’t know anything about it or why Harry does it, but he knows that he cares about Harry and that Harry is still _Harry._ He’s still a big teddy bear who tells bad jokes and writes music in his free time and wants to cuddle when watching a movie. He’s the same guy who lies on Zayn’s bed and asks him about art and English; his job is just a little different than Zayn thought.

He doesn’t know if Ben knew who Harry was to him, but he doesn’t care. Ben deliberately did this, either way, to have a laugh, and Zayn’s not that surprised. He learned a while ago Ben would push limits to entertain himself, but this time it hurt Zayn, and more importantly, it hurt Harry. Zayn may not know what happened exactly, but now that he’s actually piecing everything together, he knows that Ben told Harry this was a _date._ As in, Zayn was a client. His comment about not usually doing dinner makes sense, and Zayn wishes he could go back in time and wipe the smug look off of Ben’s face.

When Ben opens the door after Zayn’s incessant knocking, he punches him without saying anything else. He smirks as Ben falls over on his ass and flexes his fingers at his side.

“Lose Harry’s number,” Zayn tells him, fixing a harsh glare at Ben who’s still on the floor in shock. He’s holding his jaw the same way Zayn had when Louis hit him a few days ago. And Zayn was never one for this much physical violence, but he understands why Louis hit him, and Ben had it coming.

“Did you have a good time with the whore?” Ben sneers.

Anger flashes through Zayn and he crouches down, grabbing Ben’s shirt and holding him close. “You did this on purpose,” he breathes, his fear becoming real.

Ben just smirks and Zayn holds his shirt tighter.

“You’re a fucking asshole, and if you ever so much as talk to me or glance at Harry again, I won’t stop at just punching you once,” Zayn warns, shoving Ben back to the floor harshly before he stands up.

Zayn’s fuming as he walks out of the apartment, the cold winter air whipping around him but all he can see is red. Ben had always been an asshole, but he never expected him to be this much of an asshole. He could really use a punching bag right now, because all Zayn wants to do is punch Ben’s smug face repeatedly.

Taking a deep breath, Zayn forces himself to calm down. He didn’t just come up here to see Ben, but he came for Harry too. Nick’s apartment is just down the block, and he’s not going to let a door slammed in his face keep him from seeing Harry this time. He needs to clear this up; he needs Harry to know that he’s not like Ben. Harry’s not a whore to him or someone to use, but something precious that Zayn wants to cherish forever if he will let him. And it scares him a little, just how hard he’s fallen for Harry and he doesn’t know how they’ll work (if Harry even wants them to) around his job, but Zayn’s going to make it work somehow even if it kills him. Harry’s too important to let go.

Once he feels calm, or calm enough that he’s not going to hit the first person that looks at him funny, he walks over to Nick’s building. Now that he knows Nick isn’t _Harry’s Nick,_ he’s glad Harry has him. He might not know all the circumstances, and there’s still a lot Harry needs to explain, but he’s glad Harry has someone who understands what he’s doing. Because Zayn doesn’t quite get it; he also knows nothing about it besides what Liam’s told him, but it’s okay.

He waits outside for someone to come out, doesn’t want to risk Nick not letting him into the building if he buzzes for him. While he waits, he tries to think of what he wants to say to Harry, what he wants to ask, but he keeps coming back to just one thing. He gets that Harry was under the impression that the person he would be meeting would be paying him for sex that night, but once he saw it was Zayn, how could he think Zayn would actually do that? They’ve gotten so close over the past few months, and Zayn thought Harry knew him better than that. And knew Liam better than that to know that if Harry asked him not to say anything, he wouldn’t say anything, even if that meant keeping it a secret from Zayn.

With a sigh, Zayn pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, knowing there’s no use on dwelling on this until he actually talks to Harry. Finally someone comes out, and Zayn slips past her into the building, saying his friend, Nick, lives there but is being a jackass and wouldn’t buzz him in. It’s not a complete lie really, but it keeps her from questioning him or trying to call security.

Zayn knocks on Nick’s door. He doesn’t answer, but Zayn can hear feet shuffling from inside. Nick must have seen it’s him through the peephole and isn’t going to open the door to him, but Zayn’s not about to give up so easily this time.

“Nick, let me in. I know Harry’s staying here, and I need to talk to him,” he calls out, banging on the door.

It takes five minutes of knocking and yelling to open the door before Nick actually does it, a look of complete exasperation on his face as he looks at Zayn.

“I thought I made it clear you aren’t welcome here,” Nick spits out, arms crossed as he stands in the doorway.

“Let me talk to him, please,” Zayn says, eyes practically begging Nick to just let him in. He’s not above trying to force his way in either, but he’d rather not have to do that.

“Nick…”

Nick whips his head around and Zayn’s eyes go wide when he sees Harry appear a few feet behind them. He’s got a sweatshirt on and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, hair pulled up in a messy bun and a pair of yoga pants on his legs and fuzzy socks on his feet. Zayn would think he looks adorable bundled up like that, but the tissues bunched in his hand and the deep bags under his eyes keep Zayn from appreciating how Harry looks.

“It’s okay,” Harry sighs. It sounds like he’s given up completely, and Zayn hates it.

Nick steps away from the door and over to Harry, hands resting on his shoulders as he stares at him. Zayn knows what he’s doing, can tell he’s trying to read Harry’s face for any sign of uncertainty.

“Are you sure, Haz?” he asks, and Harry nods slowly.

“You have that dinner to get to anyway. I’ll be fine.”

Nick looks unsure, and Zayn can’t really blame him, but he’s relieved all the same when Nick nods his head. He kisses Harry’s forehead and grabs his jacket and keys, stopping in front of Zayn with a finger pressed hard against his chest.

“You hurt him again, and you’re dead,” he threatens, not waiting for a response before he leaves, pulling the apartment door closed behind him. Zayn thinks back to Louis’ text message, knows he has to fix this with Harry before they actually follow through on their threats and kill him.

Harry is looking down at his feet, clearly avoiding Zayn’s gaze. He doesn’t know where to start, whether to move closer to Harry or back up a little, if he should apologize first or if he should tell Harry that he just came from punching Ben in the face. He doesn’t know what to do.

They stand in awkward silence for at least five minutes before Zayn hears Harry let out a harsh breath. He lifts his head, glaring at Zayn a little. He can see the hurt still hidden there, and Zayn reminds himself that that’s why he’s here; to make Harry understand so he’ll smile again.

“Why are you here?” Harry asks, tugging the blanket tighter around him. He looks a bit like a puppy trying to be angry with the way he’s got himself wrapped up like a burrito. Zayn keeps the thought to himself.

“I didn’t know,” are the first words out of Zayn’s mouth, and it might not be the best place to start or make any sense, but Zayn runs with it. “I swear, I didn’t know, Haz.”

“Didn’t know what?” Harry asks, voice quiet and unsure, almost like a child’s.

“That you’re a hooker.”

Harry flinches hard at that, and Zayn slaps a hand over his mouth at his carelessness. He came over here to fix this, but now he’s just making a complete mess out of the situation. There’s a sniffle from across the room, and Zayn looks over to see Harry running a hand down his face, tugging at the skin of his cheeks and sighing. He looks exhausted. Zayn wonders if he’s slept since Saturday, because it doesn’t look like it.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn breathes, taking a step towards Harry but he just steps back.

Zayn picks at his beard a little, an old habit that he falls back into when he’s nervous. Harry’s just staring at him, looking a little confused, but still so sad.

“Can we like…sit?” Zayn asks. “I want to explain everything.”

“Why?” Harry asks, but even as he questions him, he starts moving back towards the couch. Zayn silently counts it as a win, a sign that maybe Harry actually wants to listen to him.

Zayn doesn’t answer the question, instead moving over to the couch as well. He waits for Harry to finally sit before sitting on the opposite end, knowing that Harry won’t be too keen on them being any closer than this right now. Figuring out what to say is hard, and Zayn probably should’ve thought this out more before he came rushing over to Nick’s, but all he knew was that he had to set things right with Harry. It might be messy trying to explain everything like this, especially because he doesn’t quite know where to start and is afraid Harry will just close up and tell him to leave. But Zayn has to try something, because he’s managed to get Harry to sit down and actually give him a chance. And it’s more than he deserves, knowing what Harry _thinks_ happened on Saturday, and Zayn falls a little more in love with him because of it.

Zayn takes a deep breath, figuring it’s best to just start at the beginning and try to explain from there.

“Liam never told me,” Zayn says first. He pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, head resting on his knees as he looks down at the floor. It’s a position he picked up from Harry, a form of self-comfort really.

“You asked him not to, so he didn’t. I knew he knew something, but he didn’t tell me until today. And he only did because no one would talk to me, and I didn’t know what I’d done to hurt you so much. I thought…I thought you worked at a bar, overheard you tell your mom about it once.”

“Not exactly going to tell my mom I make money selling myself,” Harry interrupts bitterly. Zayn swallows, something uncomfortable churning in his stomach. He’d wondered if Harry had enjoyed it, wouldn’t judge him if he did, but this is worse. Harry so clearly hates all of it, and Zayn hates it that much more because of that.

“Right, well, uhm, I thought that’s what you did, yeah? Worked at a bar. It explained why you were always out at night and working weird hours. And I thought Nick was your boyfriend, which is why you wouldn’t come home some nights.”

Zayn doesn’t look up, but he can feel Harry’s stare.

“When Ben set me up for a date on Saturday, I didn’t…I thought it was just a typical blind date. I had no idea about any of this,” Zayn waves his hand around like that explains what he’s trying to say. “I didn’t know it would be you, and then it was, and I was happy it was and then you were throwing a drink in my face and Louis was yelling at me and I didn’t know what I’d done.”

Zayn pauses, waiting for Harry to say something – anything, really, even if it’s to scream at him – but he stays silent.

“No one would explain what I’d done, and I’ve been walking around confused and unable to stop thinking about what happened. So Liam finally told me, and I guess…you thought I knew, right? When I walked in?”

Harry nods, but continues not to say anything else.

“I didn’t. I swear. I would never do that to you,” Zayn says quickly, needing Harry to know that more than anything else. Even if Zayn had known, he would never ever do something like that to Harry, to anyone. “I was just as surprised to see you. Thought you’d broken up with Nick or something, actually.”

Harry laughs harshly, and Zayn grows quiet. When he looks over at him, Harry is staring down at his hands and pulling apart a tissue slowly.

“So you thought I worked at a bar, was dating Nick, was happywith Nick and my fucking life, and then you assumed I’d broken up with Nick and Ben wanted to set us up.”

“Yeah,” Zayn says.

Harry scoffs, lifting his head to stare at Zayn. He looks a bit angry, but Zayn doesn’t care. There’s a fire behind his eyes now instead of the dullness from before, and it’s the most beautiful thing Zayn has seen in days.

“That’s a lot of assumptions to make, Zayn,” Harry points out, and Zayn shrinks back against the couch like a child being scolded. Doniya always told him he jumped to conclusions too fast, but Zayn didn’t have much else to go off of in this case, so what else was he supposed to think?

“I know,” Zayn says.

“God, it’s like you don’t actually know me at all!” Harry shouts, throwing the blanket off of him and standing up. He starts pacing the living room, and Zayn watches him. He’s tugging at his hair, messing up the bun and making it look even messier. He can practically feel the anger coming off of Harry, but Zayn also sees the way his shoulders have relaxed a bit more. He’s tense still and angry and probably a whole bunch of other things, but Harry seems to believe him to some degree. Zayn’s going to hold onto that.

It’s not exactly a fair thing to say though, that he doesn’t know Harry. He knows that he has a weird obsession with bananas and how he takes his tea. He knows Harry cries at movies practically every time, even if it’s a comedy, and that Harry worries being a music major and singing and writing won’t provide a stable enough job when he’s older. Some of that fear makes a bit more sense, now. He also knows that Harry is in love with the idea of being in love, and he knows that he wants to be a Dad someday. So it’s not that Zayn doesn’t know Harry, it’s that he doesn’t know about this part of his life, about his insecurities and what he does for money or who Nick is to him. But Zayn wants to know; he wants to know everything he possibly can about Harry.

“I’d like to, Haz. I’d really really like to,” Zayn finally says.

Harry stops his pacing and turns to him, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. “Stop assuming shit about me then.”

“Like you didn’t do the same thing?” Zayn bites back, unable to stop the words from slipping out. He doesn’t want to get angry at Harry, has been trying to fight the urge since the moment he walked through the door, but maybe he needs to. Because he’s not the only one who messed up here.

Predictably, Harry just narrows his eyes at him and crosses his arms, clearly on the defensive. “I didn’t.”

Zayn’s the one who laughs a little bitterly this time, shaking his head in disbelief. “No? You assumed I knew, didn’t you?” Zayn points out for him. “And then you assumed I set up that dinner to try to use you. Sounds like I’m not the only one who fucked up here.”

Harry’s eyes go wide a little, but he doesn’t back down.

“What else was I supposed to think?!”

“You were supposed to think I wouldn’t use you like that!” Zayn says as he stands up, and he takes a moment to think that him and Harry apparently have a flare for the dramatic when they’re angry. But Zayn’s not just angry, he’s hurt too, and him and Harry have really made a complete mess of everything.

“You were supposed to think better of me,” Zayn whispers.

“Well I’m _sorry,_ Zayn,” Harry spits out, not registering the hurt in Zayn’s voice. “Maybe I’m just too used to people using me for my body.”

Harry’s voice cracks on the last word, and Zayn watches with wide eyes as he wraps his arms around himself, shoulders shaking as he starts to cry. Without thinking about it, Zayn immediately moves towards him. It’s a reflex at this point, to comfort Harry anytime he needs it.

Tentatively, Zayn rests a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and when he doesn’t pull away, Zayn pulls him against his chest. Harry’s trembling in his arms and Zayn maneuvers them towards the couch, happy that Harry lets him guide him until he’s sitting with Harry curled up against him. His head is tucked in against Zayn’s neck, warm tears falling against his skin, and Harry’s arms are wrapped tight around him.

Zayn’s arms are just as tight around Harry, holding him as close as he can.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers between sobs, clutching at Zayn’s t-shirt, “I’m sorry, Zayn.”

“It’s okay, Hazza,” Zayn reassures, turning his head to place a lingering kiss to Harry’s forehead. “We both messed up, but it’s okay. We’ve sorted it out.”

Harry doesn’t say anything else, just leans harder against Zayn until Zayn is supporting practically all of his weight. There’s no complaints coming from Zayn though; he’ll always hold Harry up when he needs to, and his mind is still reeling over the fact that Harry seems to trust him like this again.

After about ten minutes, Harry settles down and the tears have stopped. When he lifts his head off Zayn’s shoulder, his eyes are red and puffy but he seems calmer. He rubs at his eyes, but Zayn pulls his hand back down, getting a sheepish smile in response.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry whispers, voice rough from crying.

Zayn nods, eyes still roaming over Harry to make sure he’s okay.

“You said you were happy when you saw it was me,” Harry mumbles, and now he’s glancing down and refusing to look at Zayn. His cheeks are slightly red, but Zayn doesn’t know if that’s him blushing or feeling embarrassed for his breakdown.

“Why?”

“Why was I happy?” Zayn asks.

Harry sighs. “Yeah.”

Zayn doesn’t answer right away, debating how much he wants to tell Harry. He could lie and tell him it’s because he wasn’t too keen to go on the date in the first place, and he was just glad it was Harry because then he could just have a regular dinner with a friend and not worry about it. Or he could tell him the truth, that he _liked_ Harry and was excited to see he might actually be getting a proper date with him.

He doesn’t want to scare Harry away by admitting how he feels, but he also doesn’t want to lie.

“I like you,” Zayn admits, and he feels Harry go a bit stiff in his arms. It’s not exactly the response he wanted, but he continues anyway, figures he mind as well tell Harry everything at this point. “I only agreed to the blind date because I was, uhm, trying to get over you. And then it _was_ you, and…” Zayn trails off. Harry can figure out the rest.

“You like me?” Harry asks. His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, and a little unsure, but Zayn keeps his eyes fixed on his knees. He’d rather not see the pity in Harry’s eyes if he doesn’t feel the same.

“Have for a while,” Zayn admits.

“Do you still like me?” Harry continues, sounding a bit scared.

Zayn swallows and nods. Harry grows quiet, and Zayn can practically hear him thinking.

“I’m a hooker,” Harry tells him, and Zayn lifts his head to stare at him.

There’s something sad in his eyes, something like resignation, and Zayn doesn’t understand. He knows this already.

“I know?” he says, but it sounds more like a question.

“People pay me for sex. Practically every night.”

Zayn _knows_ this, hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it really. There’s a bit of jealousy there, and anger as well at the people who use him, and sadness for this beautiful boy who feels like he has to sell his body for some reason.

“I know,” he says again.

“Do you still like me?” Harry asks. “Knowing that that’s what I do?”

The memory of Harry crawling into his bed back in October and crying, whispering that he’s worthless through his tears, comes back to Zayn again, and he gets it. He still doesn’t know how Harry feels about him, but he gets that Harry doesn’t understand how Zayn could like him knowing what he does. And maybe Zayn shouldn’t, maybe he should be turned off by this, maybe feel disgusted or something else along those lines. He doesn’t know the rules for this, but it doesn’t matter to him. Shouldn’t matter to anyone, really. It’s not his place to judge Harry, even if he wants something better for him. Harry’s still Harry; he’s still the boy who tells him bad knock-knock jokes and has dimples in his cheeks and fucking giggles at pictures of cute animals.

“Of course I do,” Zayn tells him like there’s no possible other option. And there’s not really. Louis and Niall are still his best friends; Liam hasn’t been weird around Harry in their apartment despite knowing. None of them treat Harry any different, because he’s not. He’s still their Harry, and that’s all that Zayn really cares about.

“I’m pretty sure I’m halfway to being completely in love with you, Harry Styles,” Zayn admits.

There’s a small smile spreading across Harry’s face, and he bites his bottom lip as his dimples make an appearance. Zayn didn’t realize how much he missed them over the past few days until now, and he can’t stop himself from poking one playfully like always. Harry laughs, and he sounds happy. When Zayn meets his gaze, he sees some of that light creeping back into Harry’s eyes, and his face is warm and open. Zayn was worried he’d never see Harry like this again.

“I like you too,” Harry whispers. He lifts his hand to card his fingers through Zayn’s hair, thumb brushing over the shaved side gently and making Zayn melt. He pushes his head into the touch, and Harry laughs.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who turns into a cat sometimes,” Harry teases, and Zayn lets out a soft laugh.

“You really like me?” he asks, disbelief coloring his voice. This is what he’s wanted for weeks now, but he’s still having a little trouble processing the fact that his crush may like him back in the midst of everything else.

“Yeah, a lot,” Harry admits, biting his lip again. “Why I was so upset, you know? It’s one thing to think a friend would use me, but then when it’s the guy you like…” Harry trails off, shrugging a little.

Zayn nods slowly in understanding, resting his forehead against Harry’s and locking their eyes together. “I promise, I would never do something like that to you,” he says again, needing Harry to be completely sure of that.

“I know,” Harry whispers, blinking slowly. “Think I always knew that deep down.”

Zayn smiles a little and brings a hand up to cup the back of Harry’s neck. He tilts his head to the side and leans forward, pressing their lips together. Harry lets out a soft “oh” in surprise, and Zayn moves to pull back, but then Harry is surging forward and kissing him fully. Somehow Harry manages to straddle his lap and push him back against the couch without breaking the kiss, and Zayn’s other hand squeezes Harry’s hip to tug him closer so their chests are pressed together. When he feels Harry’s tongue along his bottom lip, Zayn opens his mouth and lets him deepen the kiss. His body his humming, and he thinks he could spend the rest of his life just kissing Harry.

With a nip at his bottom lip, Zayn breaks the kiss. They’re both panting a little, and then Harry laughs softly.

“Wanted to do that since I first saw you.”

Zayn laughs too, cupping Harry’s cheek and kissing him again, this time a bit softer.

“Me too,” he says as he pulls away.

Harry smiles wide, and Zayn wants to keep him looking that happy for as long as possible.

“Does this mean you’ll come back to the apartment?” he asks after a minute.

Harry hums to himself like he’s thinking it over, but then he’s nodding and sliding off of Zayn’s lap. “Just let me grab my stuff, yeah? And we’ll go back. I don’t think Nick wants to come back to see us making out on his couch.”

Harry disappears into one of the other rooms, emerging only a few minutes later with a duffle bag and his coat. Zayn doesn’t know when Harry came back to grab stuff from their apartment, but knowing Louis and Niall, one of them probably brought it over for him.

They’re silent on the way home. Zayn wastes no time tangling his fingers with Harry’s once they’re out on the street, holding him close as they walk to the closest station. He let’s Harry rest his head on his shoulder on the twenty minute subway ride, an arm wrapped around his waist to hold him up, knowing that Harry’s tired, even if he’s trying not to show it. Zayn’s tired too, the emotional stress from the past few days finally catching up with him, and he’s just glad him and Harry make it back to the apartment without falling asleep in the middle of the street.

When they walk into the apartment, Louis and Niall are sitting on the couch talking and Liam’s in the kitchen. The three of them freeze when Zayn and Harry walk in, hands clasped together and smiling. Zayn looks between them, glancing over at Harry who is biting his lip and looking just as unsure as Zayn feels.

Louis is the first to move, face hard as he stands up and glares at Zayn.

“I thought I told you –” he starts, but Harry cuts him off. They both hear the anger in Louis’ voice.

“Louis, don’t,” Harry says, stepping away from Zayn. “Leave Zayn alone.”

Louis’ mouth falls open in disbelief. “Are you serious, Haz? After what he did –“

“Louis!” Harry interrupts again, a bit exasperated. “C’mon, we need to talk.”

Harry shoots Zayn a half smile, mouthing ‘I’ll be right back’ before disappearing into his and Louis’ room. Louis follows him, but not without shooting one last glare at Zayn.

Shrugging his coat off, Zayn hangs it next to the door and then sits down on the couch next to Niall. Liam comes in a minute later, a bag of chips in his hands as he sits on the other side of Zayn.

“Take it you two worked everything out then?” he asks, smiling a little. Zayn smiles back and leans his head on Liam’s shoulder, eyes slipping closed.

“Yeah, we’re good. It was just a big misunderstanding.”

“Knew you wouldn’t be that much of an asshole to Hazza,” Niall chimes in, patting his knee gently.

Zayn blinks an open and looks at him, offering a bit of a weak smile. “Thanks, Nialler,” he says and lets his eyes close again.

The three of them sit there watching TV for the next twenty minutes while Harry and Louis talk. No one says anything except for Liam asking why Zayn and Harry were holding hands, and Zayn knows that Liam knows the answer, but he confirms it for him anyway.

“We’re kind of together now,” he mumbles, and the subject is dropped after that.

When Harry and Louis emerge, Harry looks even more worn down, but there’s a smile on his face. Louis looks at bit sheepish and won’t exactly meet Zayn’s gaze. Harry pushes at his back lightly, and he steps around the couch and sits on the coffee table directly in front of Zayn.

Zayn doesn’t lift his head from Liam’s shoulder, but he stares back at Louis.

“I’m sorry,” Louis says, looking uncomfortable and Zayn wonders if Louis has ever actually apologized in his life.

“I shouldn’t have hit you.”

“You _hit him?!”_ Harry interrupts loudly, and Zayn laughs at how horrified he sounds.

“It’s fine, Harry,” Zayn mumbles, eyes still locked on Louis’. “He was protecting you. I can’t blame him for that.”

Harry just huffs, and Zayn can picture him crossing his arms and cocking his hip to the side. He smirks a little at the thought.

“So…we’re good?” Louis asks, and Harry snorts from behind them.

“That’s the worst apology I’ve ever heard, Lou.”

Zayn laughs a little and finds that he agrees with Harry, but he can see how sorry Louis is and he’d rather not drag out this whole situation more. So he nods in agreement instead.

“We’re good,” Zayn says, and Louis smiles, reaching forward to give him a fist bump. Zayn rolls his eyes, but holds his fist out anyway.

He feels hands slide over his shoulders and lifts his head to see Harry looking down at him with a soft smile. Zayn reaches up and squeezes one of Harry’s hands, standing up a few seconds later. He nods at the boys, and then Harry pulls him into his and Liam’s room.

“I’m sorry Louis hit you,” Harry says when the door is closed, immediately crowding Zayn’s space and wrapping his arms around his waist. Zayn simply chuckles a little, resting his hands on Harry’s biceps.

“Not your fault, babe,” he murmurs, kissing him lightly.

Harry doesn’t let him go though; instead, he pushes him up against the door and kisses him hard. Zayn’s hands slide down to grab Harry’s waist, tugging him closer as Harry’s hands trail over his chest.

He breaks the kiss, kissing down Zayn’s jaw over his stubble and nips at the skin of his neck just over his pulse point.

“Fuck, Harry,” Zayn breathes, and he hears him chuckle.

“Sensitive?” Harry teases, placing soft kisses over the rest of his neck and Zayn feels his knees get a little weaker.

“Yes,” Zayn murmurs, tilting his head down to kiss Harry again. He might collapse if he lets Harry continue to kiss his neck like that.

When their kiss breaks, Zayn rests his forehead against Harry’s, and even though he tries not to, a small yawn breaks out. Harry’s eyes crinkle in the corners as he laughs.

“Someone’s tired,” he says and starts to step away. Zayn tugs him back with a pout.

“I’m fine.”

Harry rolls his eyes and gives him a slight peck. “No, you’re tired. You were practically asleep on Liam not even ten minutes ago.”

Zayn doesn’t try to deny it, knows it would be pointless. He _is_ tired, and as much as he’d rather keep kissing Harry, his body feels like it’s going to crash at any moment. He hasn’t had a proper nights sleep in days, and right now, he sort of just wants to curl up with Harry in bed.

Harry steps out of his arms and strips down to his boxers, winking at Zayn who is staring at him a bit wide-eyed.

“Prefer to sleep like this,” is the only explanation he offers, even though in all the times he’s crawled into Zayn’s bed before, he was wearing clothes.

Zayn swallows and strips off his own shirt, Harry already knows that he sleeps without one, and flicks off the light. Harry is already under the covers when Zayn climbs in behind him. He wraps his arms around him from behind, placing a soft kiss against the back of his neck and closes his eyes. Harry relaxes in his arms, and they’re both asleep within minutes.

\---

When Zayn wakes up, he reaches out for Harry but all he feels is a cold bed. He opens his eyes, gaze darting around the room and he relaxes when he sees Harry sitting at his desk. He’s pulled on one of Zayn’s hoodies and he’s flicking through something. As Zayn sits up and stretches, he notices it’s one of his sketchbooks.

“What are you looking at?” he asks around a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tries to wake up fully.

Harry looks over at him with a fond smile, holding up the book, which is open to a rough sketch of Harry. Zayn had drawn it the other day in class when he couldn’t stop thinking about him. It wasn’t his best drawing, and Harry looked rather sad in it because that was the only Harry face he could picture at the time.

“It was sitting open on your desk,” Harry says with a shrug to explain, like he’s worried Zayn will yell at him for going through his drawings. If it was anyone else, except maybe Liam, he probably would. But Harry has always been interested in his art, so Zayn lets it go.

“You’re good inspiration,” Zayn says.

Harry blushes a little and bites his lip. He plays with the edges of the paper and sighs. “So are you,” he murmurs. “I think every song I’ve written this past month has been about you.”

Zayn laughs a little. “Yeah?”

“That’s what Niall told me.”

Zayn likes Harry like this, warm and soft after waking up and wearing his clothes. He likes Harry looking happy and stress free, the bags under his eyes all but gone and his hair falling in front of his face in messy waves. His fingers twitch at his side for his pencil and sketchpad, wanting to draw Harry just like this, capture _this_ Harry forever along with all the other Harry’s he gets to see.

An idea for his capstone comes to mind, but then Harry is standing in front of him before he can put much thought into it.

“Breakfast before I have to go to class?” he asks.

Zayn slides out of bed and slips a t-shirt on, following Harry into the kitchen where they learn no one has done any grocery shopping lately, as there are only two boxes of cereal in the pantry.

\---

Things are good for the rest of the week. Falling into a relationship with Harry isn’t that difficult; Zayn realizes it’s pretty much the same as everything they’ve been doing, except now they’re making out and Liam avoids his own bedroom more often than not. It’s probably only a matter of time before Liam and Harry switch rooms anyway, or at least, Zayn hopes so.

But then it’s Saturday night and Zayn is lying on Harry’s bed as he watches him get changed. He pulls on a pair of tight jeans, and Zayn swears they’re actually jeggings they’re so fucking tight. His hair is loose and just on the right side of messy, and he slips a near see through white long-sleeved shirt over his head. Zayn can just make out the outline of the laurels tattooed on his hips through the material. And Zayn loves how Harry looks, but he hates it too because Harry’s not currently dressing that way for him.

“I haven’t been out all week,” Harry had told him earlier that day, guilt etched in every line of his face and voice barely above a whisper, like he was terrified to tell Zayn. “I know we haven’t really talked about it, but this is my job Zayn and I need money.”

Zayn doesn’t like it, and Harry knows that. He hadn’t come right out and said it, but the frown on his face when Harry had talked to him was enough to say what Zayn was thinking.

The thing is, Zayn doesn’t quite know how to do this. He wants to be with Harry, but he doesn’t know how to share Harry. In the back of his mind he knows this means nothing, that Harry, even though he might go out and have sex with someone else, is undoubtedly his. But Zayn’s still having a bit of trouble processing the whole thing. He knows Harry is a hooker, but he still doesn’t know why or how to accept it completely. And he hates it; he doesn’t want to be upset with Harry, but part of him is.

He doesn’t understand how Harry can go out and sleep with someone else when he’s right here. Harry’s not cheating, and Zayn knows that, and it’s not that Harry doesn’t want Zayn – Harry’s made it quite clear just how much he does want Zayn. Zayn knows all of this, but he’s only known for a few days, so he doesn’t really think it should be a big surprise that he’s still trying to come to terms with everything.

Harry’s quiet as he gets ready, and Zayn knows he can feel how tense Zayn is; he’s not exactly trying to hide it.

The idea of someone putting their hands on him, of getting to touch him, annoys Zayn. It should be _his_ hands on Harry’s body, but Zayn doesn’t say any of this out loud. Harry looked guilty enough when he told him he was going out earlier that day, and even if Zayn doesn’t like it, he won’t make Harry feel any worse than he clearly does.

It helps a little that Harry doesn’t particularly enjoy this, and then Zayn feels absolutely sick and wants to throw himself off the roof for that thought. He _hates_ that Harry is doing something he hates. Because that’s something Zayn has picked up on quite clearly. Harry doesn’t want to go out, but he feels like he has too. He remembers the fight he overheard with Louis, knows Harry doesn’t feel like he has many other options, and that’s what Zayn hates the most about all this. Harry feels trapped in this, whether he’ll admit that to Zayn or not, and Zayn wants to tell him he can stop anytime. He doesn’t have to do this.

Louis had warned him, though, that Harry was stubborn about this. And even after knowing him since middle school, Louis couldn’t reason with Harry and get him to stop, though he’d been trying to since the moment he found out.

Harry’s dabbing a little bit of eyeliner on, something Zayn had never noticed he does before. And that’s just something else to add to the list of things he hates about this situation, watching Harry dress up and put on this persona that’s not him. Harry is all stumbling limbs and goofy smiles and stupid yoga poses and bad jokes. He’s sexy too, Zayn’s not blind, and Harry has a dirty side just like any college-aged boy does, but it’s not like _this._

There’s also the fact that Harry is going out on the streets in the city alone on a Saturday night. As far as he knows, nothing bad has ever happened to him and Harry mentioned offhandedly that Nick had helped him with that, explained to him the okay areas to be and how to know whether a would-be-client was too shady or not. But Zayn worries about it on top of everything else. He can handle Harry having sex with someone else, he really can. It might not be easy to do right now, but Zayn is working towards that.

The one thing he knows he won’t be able to handle is Harry getting hurt.

“I’m sorry about this,” Harry whispers, interrupting his thoughts.

Zayn glances up to see Harry standing in front of him, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and guilt once again lining the features of his face. His hands are twisting together, and Zayn reaches over to stop them. He turns Harry’s palms over and laces their fingers together. Opening his mouth, Zayn starts to say that it’s okay, but he holds the words back. It’s not really okay, because he knows how much they both hate this, but he knows Harry is going out tonight even if Zayn asks him not too.

“Just stay safe?” he asks, squeezing Harry’s hand.

Harry offers him a slight smile and leans down to kiss him slowly.

“Always am,” he whispers against his lips as he pulls away. He gives him one last apologetic look before grabbing his coat and leaving the apartment.

Zayn’s not quite sure what to do with himself after that. But then Louis walks into the room and throws a controller on the bed.

“Come on. Let’s see if you’ve gotten good enough to beat me yet.”

Zayn never thought he’d find himself thanking Louis for his existence, but that’s how he feels right now. They’re all uncomfortable with what Harry does, but Louis is the one who will actively argue with Harry about it. Zayn likes that he has someone who understands the numerous warring emotions inside of him. Louis doesn’t ask if he needs the distraction, just somehow knows.

That’s what Zayn does for the next few hours; he distracts himself with video games and junk food, listening as Louis tells him stories about his four sisters, trading off with his own stories about his sisters as well. It’s not enough to keep his mind off Harry completely, but it’s enough to stop him from obsessing over where Harry is or whom he’s with at that exact moment.

When Harry comes back he looks tired but safe, and that’s all Zayn can ask for really. Harry offers him a slight smile and goes into his room. He comes back out in just his boxers and a towel thrown over his shoulder, rolling his eyes when Louis throws a piece of popcorn at him on his way to the bathroom.

“You okay?” Louis asks when they hear the shower start. He’s staring at Zayn, eyes searching his face.

Zayn thinks about lying, but he knows it’s pointless. “I have to be,” he shrugs. “I love him, Louis. And if this is what he needs to do, I’ll come to terms with it.”

Louis doesn’t say anything else, simply studies his face for a moment longer and turns back to their video game. Zayn loses quickly, barely able to pay attention to the game now that Harry’s home.

“Ask him about it tomorrow,” Louis says, switching off the their video game and the TV. “Maybe if he explains it to you, which he probably won’t want to, just so you know, you’ll deal with it better.”

Zayn doesn’t know how true that is, but when he’s wrapped around Harry later that night and trying to fall asleep, he thinks Louis might have a point.

\---

The problem, Zayn discovers as he sits at his desk drawing while Harry plucks at his guitar on the bed, is that Zayn doesn’t quite know how to bring it up. It seems a little crass to just blurt out “why are you a hooker?” to Harry. So he sits there instead, silently drawing bad sketch after bad sketch and listening to Harry try to work out a song for class.

“I can hear you thinking from over here,” Harry says after an hour of them working in, what Zayn thought was, comfortable silence. “Spill it.”

Zayn doesn’t answer, still unsure how to ask. He’s also unsure exactly what it is he wants to ask, just knows that he needs something more to understand the whole hooker thing. He thinks it’ll get easier with time; he’ll be able to let Harry go out without the war of emotions and needing someone like Louis to distract him.

“You want to know why I’m a hooker,” Harry says, and he sounds a bit resigned.

Zayn looks over at him with wide eyes, but Harry just shrugs, placing the guitar down and leaning back against the headboard,

“Louis might’ve mentioned it,” Harry says into his knees where his legs are bent. He’s picking at lint that doesn’t actually exist, and Zayn knows he’s uncomfortable. Louis telling Harry that Zayn wanted to know about this also isn’t much of a surprise, because Zayn has come to learn that Louis can be a bit of a meddler when he wants to be.

“Only if you want to,” Zayn says, offering Harry a way out even though he has so many questions.

“I don’t want to,” Harry scoffs, rolling his eyes. “But you deserve to know. Besides, if I don’t tell you, you’ll probably just make some random assumptions, and we saw how well that worked last time.”

Harry’s teasing lightens the mood for a moment, allowing them both to laugh and release some of the tension. They grow quiet, and Zayn turns back to his sketch. Harry’s avoiding his eyes, and even if he hadn’t said it explicitly, Zayn can tell this isn’t a conversation Harry particularly wants to have. So he goes back to drawing, leaving the space for Harry to start talking whenever he wants and if he chooses to.

It takes ten minutes, and one particularly messed up drawing of an eye, before Harry starts to talk.

“I started towards the end of freshman year,” Harry says, and instead of turning to him, Zayn keeps his gaze fixed on his sketchbook, adding a random line here and there while Harry talks. Something tells him Harry needs to act like Zayn isn’t actively listening to every single word.

“Some guy pulled up on the street and asked me how much for the night. I didn’t…I didn’t go with him, but it got me thinking. It was a huge argument to get my mom and step-dad to agree to let me come here with the cost, plus the fact that I’d have to pay for an apartment come junior year. You know I have a scholarship, but the rest is loans and any money I can scrape together. Books, rent, food, a small portion of my tuition, and anything else that comes with living in a city is all on me.”

Zayn knows most of this already, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I was working at a restaurant making minimum wage and tips, and it wasn’t…it wasn’t enough. And I debated it over for weeks, and then I decided to just do it. And if I couldn’t go through with it, then I’d leave and that would be the end of that.”

Harry’s voice is empty as he tells the story, something Zayn is used to. A lot of the times when Harry’s telling him something, he speaks slowly and with a monotone voice, but this is a bit different. His voice is clipped, almost like he’s straining to get every word out. And Zayn wants to tell him he can stop, that he doesn’t have to say anything else, but he stays silent.

“It paid well, but I didn’t do it that often. Maybe once a month, at first. I also didn’t quite know where the best places were or what street corners like, belonged to someone else. That’s when I met Nick. He was a senior when we were freshman and doing the same thing. He saw me on the street, said he’d seen me around campus and knew what I was doing. He wasn’t happy about it, but he showed me the ropes of being a hooker in New York City, and it just went from there.”

Half of Zayn is thankful that Harry had Nick to help him, while the other half of him wants to find Nick and hit him for making it easier for him to fall into this.

“I don’t like it. Louis started picking up the rent when I was slacking to stop me from having to go out too much in one week. Which I appreciate, even if it does make me a little uncomfortable.

“I’m used to it,” Harry admits, and he sounds resigned to it all. Zayn hates that too, doesn’t want Harry to be resigned to this.

“I’ll stop when I graduate, that was always the plan. But for now, this is what I do, Zayn. And I know you hate it, I do too, but it is what it is.”

Zayn’s hand tightens around his pencil, and it breaks in half. He wants to yell at Harry, scream at him like he remembers Louis doing before. Harry doesn’t have to do this, doesn’t have to be resigned to being used like this, but Zayn can tell that Harry won’t listen to him if he tries to fight him on it right now. It doesn’t mean Zayn won’t try eventually, but for today, he decides to stay silent about it. He knows it’s good money; Harry wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t, but he’d rather have to pay more for his share of the rent to cover Harry then let him go out there at night.

“I don’t want to have sex,” Harry says, and Zayn looks over at him in confusion. Harry continues to avoid his gaze, choosing to stare at his knees instead.

“With you,” Harry clarifies with something like guilt in his voice. “I mean, I do _want_ to, but I can’t. Not while I’m out there letting other people have sex with me for rent money.”

The words are bitter and harsh, and Zayn can practically feel Harry’s disgust with himself. And that’s the last thing he wants, because even if he still doesn’t quite get it, the absolute last thing he sees Harry as is disgusting. He pushes away from his desk and moves over to the bed, tugging Harry’s legs down so he can straddle his lap.

“Look at me,” he whispers as he settles himself over Harry.

Harry looks up at him a little sadly, and Zayn immediately kisses him. He bends his body over Harry’s, licking across his bottom lip and into his mouth, deepening the kiss further as his hands roam over Harry’s stomach. He slips them under his shirt, feeling Harry’s warm skin against his fingertips. He breaks the kiss with a nip at Harry’s bottom lip, moving down to kiss over his neck and then his collarbone where it’s peeking out from his too-big shirt.

“Just know, I don’t care,” Zayn whispers against his skin, pulling back to lock his eyes with Harry’s and make sure he’s listening to him. “I don’t think you’re disgusting or anything along those lines. You’re fucking hot as hell, babe. And I’d be with you the second you asked.”

Harry looks unsure, but he nods slowly anyway.

“You’re amazing,” Zayn reminds him, and Harry looks close to tears at the words.

If anything though, this is the one thing he understands. He doesn’t know how he’d be able to be with Harry like that and then let him go out on the streets and be with someone else. It’d make everything harder, and he knows that that’s part of where Harry’s decision to stop them from having sex is coming from. The other part is that Harry’s unhappy with himself, but that’s something Zayn can work on fixing. Because Harry is so much more than just being a hooker and his body, and Zayn will spend forever proving that to him if he has to.

* * *

_Three Months Later…_

“We’re going out tonight,” Zayn says, poking his head into their room to see Harry on his laptop, eyebrows drawn together in frustration.

A few weeks after they started dating, Liam and Harry switched rooms. Harry was constantly in there with Zayn, meaning Liam disappeared to Harry and Louis’ room to sleep there, so it was only natural for them to trade spaces. And Liam seems to have made some kind of truce with Louis so that he can’t tantalize him in his own room, so it’s not as much of a disaster as it could’ve been.

They’ve been okay, and Zayn’s managed to reach a level of acceptance every time Harry has to go out. He doesn’t go as much anymore, lets Zayn and Louis help him out with money if he really needs it. And Zayn knows it makes him a little uncomfortable. Harry swears he’ll pay them back every time, but he doesn’t care about that. He just cares that Harry’s safe and there, instead of out on the streets and potentially in danger.

Even though they were apart, Zayn had preferred when they were on winter break, because while Harry was home, he didn’t work. He stayed around the house with his mom and went out with his sister. Whenever they talked on the phone, he sounded lighter then he did at school, and Zayn knew it was because Harry could take a break from the stress of school and being a hooker while also juggling his relationship with Zayn. Even if it meant they had to do the long distance thing, Zayn would send Harry home in a heartbeat.

But as it is, it’s a few weeks into the start of their last semester of college, and Harry has been looking more tired then normal. He has a senior recital coming up for his major, and anytime he’s not home, with Zayn somewhere, or working, he’s in a practice room singing song after song. And Zayn gets it; he’s been in the art building more often then not to work on his capstone. He thinks he’s thrown out more drawings and paintings then he’s kept at this point, but he knows he has some gems in there. Harry keeps asking to see it, always turns pleading eyes on him, and Zayn finds it’s hard to say no to that look. But he manages it; he’ll show Harry when he’s ready.

“It’s Wednesday and I have an early class tomorrow,” Harry says without looking up from his computer.

“Please?” Zayn asks, waiting for Harry to look at him before giving him a pleading look. Harry’s not the only one who uses that look, although he is better at saying no to Zayn than Zayn is at saying no to him.

Harry sighs, and Zayn steps further into the room instead of leaning against the doorframe. He walks over to Harry and tugs at one of his curls lightly. Harry tilts his head into the touch.

“Where?” he asks, but he already sounds resigned to letting Zayn have his way.

“Nothing crazy,” Zayn says. He hadn’t really planned anything in reality, he just wanted to get Harry out of the apartment and some fresh air, and it was still early in the evening.

“How about we go down to Battery Park and walk around?” Zayn suggests, knowing how much Harry loves to walk along the water there. He told him one day, that when it’s a little bit warmer, he likes to run there as well. “It’s nicer out tonight, not that cold. And you’ve been in here working all day, Haz.”

“What about dinner?” Harry asks, but his eyes have slipped closed and the words come out as a hum. Zayn’s scratching at his scalp slowly, knowing it always makes Harry relax.

“We’ll grab something on the way, babe,” Zayn says.

Harry hums a little like he’s thinking it over, but eventually he nods slowly.

Zayn kisses him softly, laughing as Harry whines when he pulls away.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Harry smiles at him, reaching up to pull his bun playfully like always. “Give me twenty minutes, yeah? I want to finish this.”

Zayn leaves him to his work and goes into the kitchen where Liam is making himself some dinner. Louis is sitting on one of the stools there and throwing small pieces of celery at his back.

“Do you ever stop?” Zayn asks with a laugh as he sits down next to him.

“He doesn’t,” Liam says for Louis, turning his head to glare at Louis before continuing to make his dinner.

Zayn sits with them until Harry’s ready, listening to Louis complain about the lab he had earlier that day. He’d never had to take a lab, but he nods along and looks at him with sympathy when the moment calls for it.

Harry appears behind him a little while later, arms wrapping around his waist and chin resting on his shoulder so their cheeks are pressed together.

“Ready,” he sings, and Zayn rolls his eyes because that much was obvious.

“You guys are adorable,” Louis says and then pulls a disgusted face. “It’s sickening.”

“We’re lovely,” Harry counters back, sticking his tongue out at Louis.

Zayn untangles himself from Harry, ignoring the two of them as they continue to banter about how cute Zayn and Harry are together as he grabs his coat. He grabs a scarf for Harry, knowing he’ll have forgotten one, and tucks his phone into his back pocket.

“As fascinating as this conversation is,” Zayn drawls as he walks back into the kitchen, handing the scarf to Harry who looks at him with a sheepish smile. “We’re going.”

Zayn pulls Harry out of the apartment before Louis can say something else about their relationship. When they’re out on the street, Harry wraps an arm around Zayn’s and practically glues himself to his side.

“It’s cold,” Harry mumbles as an explanation.

It’s not actually that cold and Harry probably doesn’t even need the scarf Zayn had grabbed for him, but Zayn doesn’t say anything. They take the quick subway ride towards the park, Harry holding onto him to stay standing instead of one of the poles. He doesn’t know why he’s being so cuddly today, but they haven’t really had any time to themselves in a week, so Zayn wants to wrap himself around Harry just as much as Harry seems to be trying to mold their bodies together.

When Zayn pulls Harry towards one of the street vendors once they’re off the subway and closer to the park, Harry only slightly makes a face. He’s still a health nut, and Zayn’s still amused that Harry will have a bowl of fruit as a snack instead of something more enjoyable. Over the past few months he’s managed to corrupt him a bit, getting him to eat more junk food and greasy food from vendors on the street.

Harry eats the food without complaint, and even if he’s trying not to show it, Zayn can tell that Harry thinks it tastes good, so he’s putting it in the win column.

A few minutes after they’re done eating, Harry’s pressed against Zayn’s side again as they walk into Battery Park. It’s a little windy near the water, so Zayn pulls Harry’s hair up into a bun for him and wraps his arm tighter around him as they walk.

They talk about nothing and everything at the same time, Harry giggling when Zayn tells him about the time he decided to put a blonde streak in his hair.

“I bet you looked hot,” he says, looking at Zayn’s hair a bit forlornly.

“I’m not about to do it again,” Zayn tells him; he’d liked the blonde, but he’s fine without it.

Harry pouts, looks proper upset to hear that, and Zayn laughs a little. Harry gets like this sometimes, upset over the smallest things and looks like a kicked puppy when he doesn’t get his way. Zayn finds it completely endearing, and right now it’s making his heart swell in his chest a little. He doesn’t think he’ll ever quite get used to the way that Harry can make him feel completely overwhelmed and at ease at the same time. But it’s not really something he wants to get used to, if he’s being honest with himself.

“I love you,” Zayn whispers. He hasn’t said it yet, even if he’s known it for a while, practically admitted it the night he and Harry worked everything out.

Harry freezes and they stop walking. He’s staring up at Zayn with wide, surprised eyes, and Zayn’s not quite sure he gets why Harry’s shocked. It’s rather obvious, Liam had even said so, that he’s completely mad for Harry, but Harry looks as though it’s the most surprising thing in the world. Zayn can also see the little quirk of his lips that’s almost invisible; knows those words made Harry happy too. Because he knows Harry, and Harry told him a long time ago that all he’s wanted for a while is someone to fall in love with.

“Zayn,” Harry murmurs, face growing softer and a smile growing to cover his surprise.

“He’s a good fuck,” some guy says as he walks by, and Harry jumps in his arms, one hand reaching back to cover his ass where Zayn’s fairly certain the guy pinched it. The guy has gone further down the park by the time Zayn really registers what happened, and he feels anger swirl in his stomach.

That’s never happened before, one of Harry’s clients running into them while they’re out and making a comment. He never really expected it to, and of course it would happen at the worst moment. Harry’s face is closed off now, eyes hard and jawline set in a frown. Zayn hates it, how quickly Harry’s gone from soft and open to completely shut off to everything.

“Haz?” Zayn asks, reaching out to touch him but Harry steps back quickly and shakes his head.

This doesn’t happen often, but Zayn’s seen Harry close himself off like this before. Harry doesn’t like to be reminded that he’s a hooker, still barely wants to talk about it with Zayn, and now he’s been harshly reminded of it while they were out on a date. There’s nothing Zayn can really do, especially when Harry clearly doesn’t want Zayn near him at the moment. And Zayn hates it, because he knows that it’s not that Harry doesn’t want to be near Zayn, it’s that he doesn’t think Zayn should be near him. He knows some of Harry’s surprise when he said ‘I love you’ comes from Harry struggling to understand why Zayn is even with him.

They argued about it once, just before winter break and a few weeks into their relationship. Harry yelling that Zayn deserved better, and Zayn trying to convince Harry that just because he’s a hooker doesn’t take away any of his worth. Zayn doesn’t care about that, wants to be with Harry despite it all. He thought he’d gotten through to him then, but he can see now it’s still something that weighs heavily on Harry.

“Can we just go home?” Harry asks, and his voice sounds dangerously close to tears.

Zayn nods and reaches out to take Harry’s hand, not letting Harry pull away from him this time.

They’re silent as they make their way back to the apartment. Any time Zayn tries to bring it up or tell Harry not to listen to that fucker or tell him it doesn’t change the way Zayn seems him, Harry just grows harder and harder and shuts himself off more. So Zayn stops.

Louis looks at them with concern when they walk in, but Zayn just shakes his head. “I’ll explain tomorrow,” he mouths, and Louis nods. It doesn’t stop him from bounding over to Harry and giving him a hug though. He whispers something in his ear, getting a small nod from Harry, and then goes back to what he was doing.

Zayn doesn’t ask, but when he goes into their room Harry is already lying on the bed on his side. Zayn climbs on behind him and pulls him into his arms, laying in silence with him for the rest of the night until they fall asleep.

\---

Things don’t improve after that. Harry closes himself off and barely lets Zayn touch him. Whenever Zayn tries to bring it up, Harry walks out of the room or just completely ignores him. Zayn’s at a loss for what to do and how to fix this, but he sees the bags growing under Harry’s eyes and the completely resigned look in his eyes the next time he goes out.

“You could stay in tonight,” Zayn says a week later. He’s sitting on their bed while Harry gets changed. He’s only gone out once since the incident at Battery Park, and even though he still won’t talk to him about it, Zayn’s decided that he’s had enough. He’s not going to keep letting Harry do this, because he sees how much he’s hurting. It’s not about the anger and jealousy he still feels sometimes or the worry for his safety; it’s about Harry being emotionally and mentally okay. Because right now he’s not, and Zayn feels it like a shock to his system when he finally realizes that and admits it to himself.

He’s a bit behind; sure that Louis’ already knew all of this – the toll this was taking on Harry’s views of himself. And Zayn wasn’t blind to it, but he just didn’t quite register it as completely as he does now.

“No, I couldn’t,” Harry says, and there’s no expression in his voice. He’s just monotone, and while Zayn’s used to that, this is different. This is clipped and cold and lacking of anything that makes Harry who he is; it’s like when he told him about why he’s a hooker, distancing himself from what he says.

“Yes, you could. You don’t have to do this, Harry,” Zayn pushes, and he sees the way Harry’s shoulders are tensing, but he doesn’t care. If he has to fight with Harry, he will. They can’t continue to just tiptoe around this and act like Harry doesn’t mind being a hooker.

“I need the money,” Harry says through gritted teeth.

“So get a different job,” Zayn says with a shrug.

“No.” His voice is cold, and Zayn sees him glaring at him in the mirror, can practically feel it rolling off of him.

“Yes,” he counters. “You’re worth more than this –“

Harry’s scoff stops him from continuing, and something wiggles at the back of his mind, a thought he can’t fully comprehend just yet.

“I’m not though, am I?” Harry says, voice so quiet Zayn almost doesn’t hear it. His eyes are sad and resigned as he turns to Zayn. “I’m not worth much more than this.”

Zayn swallows and shakes his head quickly. He gets off the bed and moves in front of Harry, hands cupping each side of his face and forcing him to look at him.

It clicks for Zayn then, why Harry is so adamant about doing this. It’s not that Harry doesn’t want to stop, it’s that Harry doesn’t feel like he’s worth stopping, doesn’t believe he’s worth more than what he’s doing.

“You are,” Zayn promises.

Harry stares at him for a long moment, but then he’s shaking his head and pulling away and Zayn knows he didn’t get through to him. Before he has a chance to say anything else, the bedroom door slams and Harry’s gone.

Zayn stays frozen there for a moment, hands still in the air where they’d been holding Harry. Something cracks in his heart, and he feels tears burning the back of his eyes. He takes a deep breath and goes to Louis’ room, sitting down on Liam’s bed across from where Louis is sitting with a textbook open on his lap on his own bed.

“Finally figured it out?” Louis asks after five minutes of silence. Zayn’s sitting cross-legged on Liam’s bed and staring at his hands.

He frowns at Louis’ comment and looks up at him. There’s a sad smile on his face, one that’s not really happy but just accepting.

“Why he won’t quit,” Louis clarifies. Zayn nods, hating that he didn’t figure it out sooner and hating that he doesn’t know how to get through to Harry.

\---

It’s only an hour later when Harry comes back. Zayn is lying on Liam’s bed and reading, Louis working silently next to him.

“Zayn,” he croaks out, voice rough and tired. Zayn’s eyes shoot towards the door, widening when he takes in Harry. He’s leaning against the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him from collapsing; his shirt is ripped a little at the collar and his hair is a complete mess. He’s sniffling and rubbing at his forearm. Louis looks angry when Zayn glances at him, but they both know it’s not directed at Harry. It’s at whomever made Harry look so defeated that Zayn wants to cry.

Zayn wastes no time sliding off the bed and stepping in front of Harry, tentatively reaching out to touch him, but Harry doesn’t back away like he did earlier. Instead, he all but collapses into his arms, and Zayn holds him tight against his chest.

“C’mon,” Zayn mumbles and leads him towards their room. He can still feel the anger coming from Louis, knows he’ll be on the phone with Niall in a second, but Zayn’s main concern right now is Harry and taking care of him.

“It wasn’t a John,” Harry mumbles when they get to their room, letting Zayn undress him without protest. There’s a bruise forming on his arm where he’d been rubbing it and a red mark on his collar where the rip in his shirt had been. Zayn kisses each spot slowly, and then pushes Harry to lie down on the bed, pulling the comforter over their bodies when he climbs in with him. Harry immediately curls into his chest, head pillowed there and one arm thrown over his stomach and holding him tightly.

“I was distracted,” Harry says against his skin, and if Zayn’s surprised that Harry’s talking to him without Zayn having to pry it out of him, he doesn’t let it show. “Walked down an alley I shouldn’t have, bunch of guys there. They didn’t do anything really, just kind of pushed me up against the wall and stuff and I managed to get away when they got spooked by a car alarm going off.”

Zayn stays silent as Harry talks, one hand drawing lazy patterns against his back and the other resting over Harry’s on his stomach. He doesn’t know why Harry’s talking now, what about this made him want to, but he’s not going to stop him.

“I didn’t really fight them,” Harry admits, turning his face to hide it against Zayn’s neck. His words are muffled as he continues, but Zayn can still understand him. “I’ve gotten used to my body being used that it doesn’t even register to me to stop people.”

Zayn’s arms tighten around Harry, and he knows that he’s never letting Harry go out on the streets again. He doesn’t care if Harry fights him on it, the second Zayn found out and realized Harry wasn’t happy about what he was doing, he should’ve made sure Harry stopped. He’ll never forgive himself for letting Harry continue without much of a fight, but he’s going to start making it up to him now.

“It scared me, Zayn,” Harry admits, and he feels warm tears against his neck. Harry’s body is shaking slightly, and Zayn turns to his side and pulls Harry fully against his chest. He curls in tight against him, head still buried in his neck as he cries.

“Not the guys,” Harry clarifies when he’s calmed down a little. “But that I don’t even care anymore.”

Harry starts crying again, proper sobs this time and he’s shaking violently in Zayn’s arms. He’s babbling non-stop, apologizing for avoiding Zayn, throwing out words like worthless and useless and disgusting repeatedly. He tells Zayn he loves him through his sobs, and then immediately apologizes for admitting it like that, which only makes him cry harder.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, just holds Harry tight and wraps his body around his to remind him that he’s there; no matter what, he’ll be right there. He’s not surprised by this, been waiting for it a little bit, because he knew that Harry couldn’t keep everything bottled the way he has been. And he hates how it happened, but he’s glad that Harry’s finally letting himself feel all of this. It’s overwhelming for him; Zayn knows because it’s even a bit overwhelming for him too.

“I’ve got you, Hazza,” Zayn whispers against his ear when the worst of the crying subsides and he’s no longer shaking so hard.

Harry doesn’t say anything else after that, just continues to stay wrapped tight around Zayn like an octopus as he falls into a restless sleep. Zayn holds him close through the night, soothing him anytime he starts to squirm in his arms. He falls asleep a few hours later, promising himself that he’s going to get Harry through this.

\---

Zayn wakes up before Harry, a rare occurrence but he knows Harry’s probably still completely drained after last night. He brushes his curls back from his face, lightly tracing the bags that are still present under his eyes. Zayn’ is going to make Harry sleep for the next week to get rid of them if he has to.

Harry’s eyelids flutter open at the touch, and he looks up at Zayn through sleepy eyes.

“Hi,” he croaks, voice rough from sleep and crying the night before.

Zayn just smiles fondly, tightening his arms around Harry a little as Harry nuzzles his head against Zayn’s chest.

“You need to quit, babe,” Zayn whispers after a few minutes. Harry tenses a bit in his arms, but then relaxes completely and nods, pressing a kiss to Zayn’s chest over the red lips tattooed there.

“I know,” he admits, and Zayn breathes out a sigh of relief. He really didn’t want to have to fight with Harry about this, but something seems to have clicked for Harry last night as well. Zayn knows it won’t be that easy, that there’s still a lot to work through and Harry’s insecurities won’t be fixed suddenly, but it’s a step forward and that’s all he can really ask for right now.

“I think you should talk to someone too,” Zayn tells him, playing with the hair at the base of his neck. “A professional.”

Harry sighs against him, but he doesn’t disagree. He doesn’t agree to go either, but if he’s not adamantly disagreeing and fighting him, Zayn knows he has a good chance of getting Harry to listen to him. Zayn’s going to help him, but Harry’s insecurities and this feeling of being worthless run deep. They’ve been there for a while, maybe since before he even started being a hooker, and Zayn knows he can’t help him alone.

There’s a knock on the door, and then Louis and Niall are standing there looking at the two of them.

“Everything okay?” Louis asks, clearly still worried about last night.

Harry lifts his head to look at the two of them, offering a shaky smile.

“I’m quitting,” he whispers.

Louis’ eyes widen and Niall smiles wide, both wasting no time in running into the room and jumping on the bed to hug Harry. Zayn’s caught underneath them and there’s really not enough space for this, but then Harry’s laughing and Zayn melts at the sound. Harry’s happy right now, and if that means he loses circulation in an arm or a leg, Zayn will take it.

Liam appears in the doorway a minute later, an eyebrow raised as he takes in the four boys piled together on the bed.

“Harry’s quitting,” Zayn says as an explanation. Predictably, Liam smiles and joins the pile on the bed, crushing Zayn further as he reaches over to ruffle Harry’s hair.

Harry giggles and hides his head in Zayn’s shoulder. The other boys stay there for another ten minutes, crushing Zayn completely, but when he sees that light in Harry’s eyes and the dimples in his cheeks, he doesn’t care. He knows they’ll be okay.

* * *

**_Epilogue_ **

_Two Months Later_

Harry comes bounding into the apartment with a wide smile and a torn open envelope in his hand. Zayn’s busy making himself something for lunch when he comes in, so Harry sits himself on the counter and holds the envelope in front of Zayn’s face. Zayn just raises an eyebrow.

“I got my test results back,” Harry says with a smile.

Zayn’s still not sure why there’s an envelope sitting in front of his face because they had called Harry yesterday to tell him he was clean. But maybe it’s something about having the physical evidence in front of him that makes Harry happier, like he can hold onto it easier.

Zayn remembers Harry telling him he was going to get tested, face serious and completely determined. It wasn’t that he wasn’t safe when he was working, but Harry needs that sense of calm. He needs the reassurance that he is okay and can move forward without something holding him back. It was something his therapist encouraged when Harry admitted he still felt dirty sometimes, and seeing the smile on Harry’s face now, he’d be hard pressed not to agree that this is something Harry needed.

“I’m happy for you, babe,” Zayn tells him, and he leans forward to kiss Harry, but his lips meet paper as Harry holds the envelope in front of his mouth. Zayn whines, and Harry’s eyes light up a little.

The past two months have been good for him, difficult at times though, but good all the same. He’d come home from more than one therapy session upset and drained, claiming he was never going back and that he was completely fine. He always went back though. Louis had helped him get a job at a fancy restaurant that paid above minimum wage, and with his charming smile, Harry always made good tips. Niall had dragged him to a few open mic nights to get him singing again, and Liam had found a flyer and showed it to Harry – it was to help volunteer at an elementary school afterschool program with music.

So Harry is good. Not perfect, and Zayn’s not sure that he’ll ever be completely insecurity free, no one ever really is, but he’s happy now.

“Don’t you have something to show me too?” Harry asks, pushing Zayn back when he tries to kiss him again.

Zayn looks at his food a little forlornly, knowing Harry’s not going to let him be for ten minutes to eat. He pulls Harry off the counter and into their room, sitting him down on the bed as he grabs his portfolio out of the closet.

They’re nearing the end of the semester, graduation right around the corner. Harry and Zayn both have summer jobs lined up in the city, and they’ll figure the rest out from there. But since everything’s coming to a close, it means Zayn’s capstone is officially due in a week and Harry has been relentless about trying to get Zayn to show him. Zayn’s not sure why he wanted to keep it a secret so badly until it was completed, but he knows it’ll be better showing Harry the whole thing at once.

He hands his portfolio over, and Harry takes it with a whispered “finally.”

Zayn sits at his desk while Harry opens it and spreads the drawings out in order along the bed. Instead of looking at him for his reaction though, Zayn opens up his computer and decides to check his e-mail. He knows there’s nothing there, but he needs to distract himself while Harry looks over everything.

“Zayn…” Harry whispers a few minutes later and it sounds like there’s tears in his voice. Zayn swallows, unsure if that’s a good thing, and turns to him.

Harry’s not looking at him though, eyes fixed on his artwork. One of his hands is shaking slightly where it’s covering his mouth as the other delicately traces one of the lines of a drawing.

“I haven’t named the collection yet,” Zayn says to distract himself, “I’ll probably name it ‘Different Facets of a Person’ or something corny like that.”

Harry doesn’t laugh, but there’s a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth.

“C’mere,” Harry whispers.

Zayn shuts his laptop and moves to him. He sits down on the bed next to Harry, staring down at the various portraits he’d done of his boyfriend over the past few months. There’s a black and white sketch of Harry smiling and looking to the side, there’s an oil painting of Harry’s profile, there’s a comic design of Harry looking angry and ready to fight, there’s a cartoon version of him with sad eyes, and there’s a few more black and white sketches depicting various emotions on Harry’s face.

“This is amazing,” Harry says, and Zayn looks over at him. Harry’s still staring at the drawings, and Zayn’s heart swells when he realizes Harry is happy. He’s laughing a little, like he’s trying to process the fact that Zayn made his capstone numerous drawings of him.

It hadn’t been easy to get his advisor to let him to do it. He thought Zayn was limiting himself by only drawing one person, but Zayn had countered that that was the beauty of it. The struggle to capture him in more than one setting and show different facets of him would be the hardest part, which was exactly why he should do it. He’d relented after Zayn had shown him a few very rough sketches, telling Zayn he was taking a risk – especially if he would use this portfolio as a submission for graduate school (something he did plan to do in the next year) – but if he did it right, it could be something spectacular.

As he looks at Harry, sees the way he’s practically vibrating with happiness, he knows he made the right choice.

“Thank you,” Harry whispers, head tilting to the side to rest on Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn wraps an arm around him and kisses his forehead.

“I told you before, you’re great inspiration, babe.”

Harry laughs a little. He leans forward to put the drawings back in Zayn’s portfolio, gently placing it on the ground before turning to him.

Zayn stares at him as he shuffles forward on his knees. He pushes at his shoulder until Zayn kicks his legs out and lies down, wasting no time to straddle his hips and rest his hands on his chest.

“Are you sure?” Zayn asks, knowing where Harry is going with this.

They haven’t really done anything in the months they’ve been together. And he’s taken more cold showers than he thought humanly possible, but Harry wasn’t ready and he’d never push him to be. They’ve gotten off together, never anything more than grinding against each other or the occasional hand job. He had given Harry a blowjob the other day; so they’d been slowly learning each other’s bodies, but Harry was leading them. Whatever Harry is comfortable with is whatever they’ll do.

But Zayn can see the slight glint in his eyes, the one that tells him Harry wants more.

“I’m sure,” Harry says. He locks his eyes with Zayn’s, both of them knowing Zayn has to make sure Harry is telling the truth before they go any further.

Zayn surges up to kiss him when he sees nothing but pure want in Harry’s gaze. Harry sighs against him and opens his mouth, letting Zayn press their tongues together and deepen the kiss. Harry’s hands are roaming, pushing his shirt up and tracing over his stomach. Zayn moans into his mouth, his hands grasping at the bottom of Harry’s t-shirt (the one that’s really Zayn’s) and he pushes it up until Harry’s breaking the kiss and letting him tug it off.

Harry returns the favor, stripping Zayn of his shirt before leaning down to kiss over his collarbone, trailing his mouth over the wings on his chest before licking over one of his nipples. With a whine, Zayn arches into Harry’s mouth, body already feeling too warm and cock hard. Harry barely has to touch him, and Zayn knows he won’t last long. He’s been waiting for this for too long and feeling Harry against him can easily become too much.

There are hands at his belt, quickly stripping it off and he hears it bang against the wall before falling to the floor. His jeans are unbuttoned a second later.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teases, and Harry looks up at him with a playful glare. He nips at his hipbone, fingers dipping below the waistband of his jeans and briefs. They’re stripped off in the next second and then Zayn’s spread out and naked underneath Harry.

“That’s more like it,” Harry mumbles.

Zayn laughs a little, but the sound dies in his throat when Harry wraps his hand around his cock. He spreads the pre-cum around the head and strokes him slowly. He’s teasing; Zayn can see the slight smirk on his face when he pulls a loud groan from Zayn, hips jerking up into Harry’s touch.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

Harry leans over to kiss him. It’s messy and a bit sloppy, Zayn a bit more focused on the hand on his cock then actively trying to kiss Harry. Harry sucks at his bottom lip, and Zayn’s eyes roll back a bit in his head. He knows Harry could take him apart and leave him a trembling mess underneath him if he wanted to.

Zayn is panting when he breaks the kiss. He reaches over with shaking hands to unbutton Harry’s jeans, tugging at them a bit uselessly.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” he whines.

Harry laughs a little and winks at him. He stands up and strips off the rest of his clothes and all Zayn can do is stare. Harry’s always been impossibly sexy too him; he has no idea how he manages to be a baby deer one moment and then proceed to leave Zayn speechless in the next second because he’s made some obscene gesture. The laurels on his hips draw Zayn’s attention immediately, like always, and he’s staring at the v of Harry’s hips. He wants to spread Harry out underneath him and lick them.

Harry climbs onto the bed, a bottle of lube and a condom in his hand. Zayn’s not sure when he grabbed them, too busy ogling his boyfriend, but then he’s there and staring down at him.

“What do you want?” he asks, voice rough as he traces the snake on Zayn’s shoulder slowly with his tongue.

“Want you to fuck me,” Zayn breathes without needing to think about it, spreading his legs for Harry. He considers turning over onto his stomach, but he wants to see Harry.

Harry kisses him again, leaves him a bit breathless when he pulls away and settles between Zayn’s legs.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he breathes, bending one of Zayn’s legs up.

He kisses the inside of his knee and Zayn shivers at the gentle touch. He hears a bottle cap flick open and then feels Harry pressing against him.

He whines as Harry pushes a finger inside of him, the stretch burning a little and he squeezes his eyes shut as he gets used to the feeling. It’s been a while since he last did this, but then Harry’s licking at the head of his cock and he can’t concentrate on anything else but that.

Harry licks over the vein on the underside of his cock, tracing it slowly with his tongue before taking Zayn in his mouth completely. His hips jerk and Harry’s arm presses down to hold him there.

Zayn’s whole body feels on fire, completely consumed by everything Harry’s doing to him. He feels him press a second finger in, stretching him open slowly before pushing in a third a minute later.

Zayn’s lost in everything Harry’s doing to him, unsure whether to focus on the fingers inside him or the warm mouth around his cock. It feels like Harry’s taking him apart piece by piece, and he feels like he’s going to combust with how much he wants Harry.

“Fuck,” Zayn shouts when Harry curls his fingers just right, body jerking hard as his toes curl. He looks down to see Harry staring up at him with a slight smirk. Zayn doesn’t care though, eyes focused on Harry’s spit slick lips and the flush on his cheeks.

“Please…” he whispers, pushing back against Harry’s fingers and turning pleading eyes on him. He’ll fucking beg Harry if he has to he’s so desperate for it.

Harry looks just as strung out as he feels though. He’s sliding the condom on and positioning himself between Zayn’s legs before Zayn can even process anything.

He rests his hands on either side of Zayn’s head, kissing him deeply as he pushes inside.

Zayn clenches around him at first, body adjusting to the feeling, but then he’s relaxing and whispering for Harry to move.

His nails press into Harry’s shoulders as he pulls him closer, their mouths locked together but they’re not kissing, just panting into each other as Harry fucks him. He’s letting out little whimpers every time Harry presses inside of him just right, chest arching up as his hands fall down to grasp at the sheets.

“You feel so good,” Harry whispers through clenched teeth. “So fucking tight.”

Zayn keens as Harry fucks him harder, head thrown back and eyes squeezes closed. He’s so close already, can feel the heat coiling in his stomach and he knows he’s not going to last long. Harry seems to know it too as he snakes an arm between their bodies and wraps his hand around Zayn’s cock. Just the touch of his thumb over the head is enough to send Zayn reeling and he’s coming hard without another thought.

He moans Harry’s name loudly, and then Harry tenses against him and Zayn knows he’s coming too. They ride out their high together, bodies shaking slightly as they start to come back down.

Zayn feels boneless as Harry collapses against him, head tucked into his neck as he breathes harshly. They stay like that for a few minutes to catch their breath, slowly coming back to themselves. Harry kisses his shoulder and pulls out, tugging the condom off and tying it. He slips off the bed and throws it in the trash, disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a warm washcloth seconds later. He closes the door behind him and locks it – they both know any of the other boys could come home anytime.

Harry wipes the come off his stomach and Zayn sighs at the gentle touch. It’s only two in the afternoon, but he feels like he could fall asleep for the rest of the day.

When Harry climbs back onto the bed, Zayn pulls him into his arms and smiles as he rests his head on Zayn’s chest. It’s become Harry’s favorite pillow over the past few months.

“Love you,” Harry mumbles and Zayn knows he’s only seconds away from falling asleep.

“Love you too,” he whispers before slipping into sleep with Harry.

 

**Author's Note:**

> written for the prompt: "2. hooker au. don’t care if they’re both hookers or hooker/client, or which is one is which. happy ending totally optional. "
> 
> i thought of the idea to twist the hooker/client scenario with zayn not knowing he was a client, and somehow i ended up with this monster of a story. i also didn't mention it in the tags, after a long talk with my beta about it, because it's a pretty significant plot point and i didn't want to spoil the twist in the story. 
> 
> hope everyone liked it. let me know your thoughts, either here or on [tumblr](http://www.whatwasthatharry.tumblr.com)!


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